The Fine Art Of Marriage
by Radiorox
Summary: Sequel Story to the Fine Art of Dating. Harm and Mac go through the humorous ups and downs of marriage.
1. Busted!

Title: The Fine Art Of Marriage

Author: Jackie, Radiorox

Summary: Sequel Story to the Fine Art of Dating. Harm and Mac go through the humorous ups and downs of marriage.

AN: We leave it where we left off, Harm and Mac are in Vegas, recently married and a little someone from back home catches them off guard.

**Part 1 – Busted!**

"You know, I am kinda glad to get out of the hotel room." My new bride states as we sit, side by side in front of slot machines. I study her expression and a sincerity that irks me. Did she not _enjoy_ the time we spent upstairs? I mean, I strongly remember her writhing beneath, above and next to me while screaming my name. Our 'next door neighbors' were even knocking the wall down and telling us to be quiet.

Alright, so we were a _little_ enthusiastic. How can you blame us with a courtship that's lasted a decade?

I take a sip of my drink. "You prefer being down here, with zillions of other people, than being _alone_ with _me_ upstairs?"

Mac's been the only person that could read me like a book. Alright, so maybe she couldn't read _everything_, then again, neither could I when it came down to _us_. But, on normal, day to day things, the woman was downright scary. "That's not what I meant." She says in a sexy voice as her fingers trail up my inner thigh. It's enough to make me shiver and Mac chuckles in the enjoyment of making me flustered. "My back was starting to ache." She confesses and stretches almost cat like.

"Ah, so that's why you insisted on having a couple's massage?" I love getting massaged, it's great, wonderful, however, when a three hundred pound woman is, squeezing down on your butt muscles like she's kneading cookie dough things tend to change. Honestly, I just love Mac's massages. Probably because they lead to more interesting things.

She holds back her laughter and then just gives in, doubling over and holding the slot machine in front of her for dear life. "The look on your face was priceless. . .I happen to think that you only like _my _massages. . .I sure as hell love _yours_."

Well, at least there's that. "Woooo!! Lucky sevens!" I yelp and rack up a good forty bucks after having spent over a hundred.

Mac peaks at my machine and chuckles. "Sixty more and you'll break even." She's gloating and has all of the right in the world to. Besides winning five hundred dollars at the black jack table the night that she got here, Mac has two buckets full of quarters. "Let me know if you want a loan." She places a quarter in the palm of my hand grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Hey, you're my wife now, MacKenzie, that means that what's yours is mine and what's mine is yours." Mmm. I kinda realize, a bit late that it was the absolute wrong thing to say to a lawyer with a wicked wit like Mac's.

She turns to me with an evil grin. "So, that means I get to drive around your 'Vette?"

"My 'Vette?" I groan. "We'll discuss the parameters at another time, thank you."

It takes me the loss of another forty dollars to remember that slot machines were often coined the 'one arm bandits.' Mac fares slightly better, winning another twenty before her internal clock tells her it's time to head upstairs, shower and change for a show at the Mirage.

She looks stunning in a long, deep green dress and I find myself just staring as she comes out of the head. "Wow." I can't believe that she's all mine now. All mine. Mine. Sarah MacKenzie is mine and I feel like a kid at Christmas.

"Wow yourself, sailor." I'm wearing a black suit and tie opting to forgo the dress whites which Mac hinted she preferred me in. I just wanted to feel normal for once, not like a Commander in the Navy. I wanted to forget all about the military and just enjoy the few, precious days that we have before heading back to JAG turmoil.

We head to the Mirage in a limo and work our way through the hotel, me with Mac on my arm. Other couples stare at us with, what I imagine would be jealousy and I enjoy every moment of it. Mac had never been the type to enjoy adorning a man's arm, but this time, I see her walk a little straighter as if enjoying the attention. Maybe she just wanted to be on _my_ arm.

Stopping at the bar before the show, I order her up a Tonic water with a twist and me a burbon. We chat for a while and an eardrum piercing wail nearly knocks me off of my stool. "Oh may God! Harm and Sarah."

Our eyes widen and we both turn in time to see, none other than Jacques, our former wedding coordinator standing with an entourage of sorts. He heads towards us in a movement that is _way_ too graceful for a man of his size and stature. He looks like a man that should be playing football as a linebacker and not wearing a pink suit, as stylish as it is for him. "Sarah" He bows for Mac, takes her hand and is about to kiss the back of it when. . .

The shriek is probably the same sound that the mythological banshee makes. If not, it's pretty damned close to it. Everything around us, even the piano music comes to a halt leaving some cheesy lounge music to play over the speakers. I glance around self consciously and then peer at Jacques who is giving the both of us an evil glare.

He shrieks again, this time louder (if that's even possible) and a second later, Mirage security is coming to our side. "Something wrong?"

Great, I can imagine us being kicked out on our asses for this one. "No, Jacques is our wedding coordinator and we've. . .umm. . ."

"Eloped?" The surly, balnding guard states and then smirks. He takes one more glance at Jacques and shakes his head in disgust. "Can you please calm him down a bit?"

"I'll try." Yeah, right. Maybe I should have just let him take Jacques away. Nah, I am not that cruel.

"Jour mami will be very upset. Aie dios. Con todo el dinero. . .all of the mahney she'd spent for joo."

"Manny? Who's Manny?" Mac asks and we just shrug in confussion. What the hell was Jacques talking about?"

"Aie dios!" He yelps and I swear, if he screams again I am going to just crawl under the rug. "Not _Manny_! _Mahney!_" He gives me an incredulous look which I return surely enough with a confussed look. "Aie dios!" Jacques repeats again and then stomps his foot and pouts much like I'd seen Renee do way back when. Yup, that's who he reminds me of, a more annoying version of Renee. "Mahney!!" He snorts and then rubs the tips of his thumb and index finger together.

"Ooooh. Money!" Mac exclaims, happily settling one calamity only to have Jacques yelp again. I swear, the man is giving me a headache.

"Aie dios!" That is clearly his favorite phrase. "Trishie whill be so apset! She spent so much mahney!"

I narrow my eyes. "I never asked her to spend so much _money._" I emphasize the last word, hoping that Jacques will get a clue on how to pronounce it but I doubt it will sink in much. He's busily flailing his arms like someone who can't swim and had just been thrown overboard.

"Whell, she did. . .Flowers, de hall, de caterers. . ." He trails off and glares at Mac in something that I would call spite. "Joo let him elope joo?"

Mac raises her hand in defense. "I wanted to. . .The wedding plans, _your_ plans were a bit too much." She's much more brazen than I and I love her for it. Jacques, on the other hand does not seem too pleased.

He helps once again and then deflates into a bar stool. "Jacques haf failed joo." A hand comes over his face and he starts to sob – loudly. His cries sound faintly like two cats in heat and I find myself startled every few seconds or so when he stops and then starts again. God, why me? Why us?

I feel a dull ache at the pit of my stomach, a guilt that is starting to collect itself like a tsunami as I realize the sacrifice that my mother has made for me. I love her, I do, but why couldn't she keep her nose out of this? Part of me also feels bad for Jacques who's no doubt put his time and effort into the whole thing.

"Harm." Mac states softly and leans in to whisper in my ear. "I'm kinda feeling bad right about now." Neither of us have really been the type to be swayed by a guilt trip and now. . .damnit. I see the turmoil in her molten chocolate eyes. "Maybe it wouldn't be _so_ bad to do the wedding thing properly."

At that, Jacques' wailing stops abruptly. He glances up hopefully at us and then starts rambling something in Spanish that I can't decipher but believe to be a prayer of sorts. "Oh, Sarah, joo are going to lav the flowers Trishie picked out. . .So beautiful. . . and the caterers, joo mast ehstart looking into de menu. . ."

He takes Mac's hand and practically pushes me out of the whole conversation. I sigh deeply and roll my eyes. So much for the simplicity of eloping.

Mom's going to kill me.


	2. His, Mine and Ours

**Part 2 - His, Mine and Ours.**

I sit on Harm's sofa. . .er, _our_ sofa, I think. Once your married things need to be shared between the couple, I believe. So even if this is _Harm's_ sofa which he bought and is in _Harm's_ apartment, we're married now so, by right, _his_ sofa is now also _my_ sofa. . .or _our_ sofa. I sigh in disgust. My analytical mind is really just anal.

Glancing around I spot things to be pretty much as they always are, tidy, except for our clothes that lay a trail between the door to the sofa. My underwear is hanging over his lamp – don't ask -. . .erm, _our_ lamp. Jesus this is going to get confusing.

My brain poses a concern. . .

We're married but still have separate apartments, that can't be good, can it? Neither can the little tift we had on the plane as to which place to stay at. The logical thing, in my mind, would be _my_ (which has now become _our_) apartment. It's bigger. Though I understand my dear husband's plight as he'd worked so hard to complete it. I can't ask him to give it up and, during the trip back home, his argument kinda suggested that _he_ wanted _me_ to pick a place to live.

Hmmm. The question weighs on my mind, _his, mine or ours_? My wayward thoughts are interrupted when I hear Harm who's pacing back in forth wearing only a bed sheet around his waist that he constantly trips on. "Yes, but. . .that's not. . . wait. . ." He sighs and mouths an 'I'm sorry' in my direction, his fourth in the last ten minutes.

Our romantic interlude came to a grinding (no pun intended) halt when Harm's mom, as if on queue called. And called. And called. She left six messages to be exact, before we just decided to give up on the whole making love thing. It was on the seventh message when Harm finally picked up and the first thing I hear is a scream that would, and probably did, wake the dead. She's been chewing him out for the last ten minutes ever since.

"Mom. . .No, that's not true. . .We _do_ appreciate you. . .It's just that. . . .Well. . .No. . .Because. . .Mom, I'm a grown ma. . .man. . .No, I will not put Mac on the phone. . .Because. . .It's our. . .No!. . ." This one sided conversation thing is kinda fun especially when you see Harm changing colors. Trish is a determined woman and with a son like Harm I can totally understand. I guess his happiness means so much to her that she'd do anything to insure it. . .oh no, what's he? Is he putting her on SPEAKER PHONE?!?! Ugh!

I suddenly find my heart hammering a bit too hard against my chest. Yes, I am afraid of this woman and rightfully so, I've never been the type for any mother to like. That whole 'willful' and 'independent' thing tends to piss mothers off when they prefer for their sons to have nothing more than a dutiful housewife. I am _so_ not that kinda girl.

I slump into the sofa and Harm sits next to me. _"Mac? Can you hear me?"_

It takes a second or two for my throat to clear itself of the large knot that is forcing me not to speak. "Loud and clear, Trish."

Harm's mom sighs deeply and then again. "_I can not believe you let him con you into eloping."_

"There really wasn't too much conning I mean I. ."

"_A wedding is a very beautiful thing and it should be done right not in the back seat of some Convertible at a drive thru chapel."_

I give a knowing glance at Harm who reddens. See, I knew that Convertible idea wouldn't have been such a big hit. "Actually, the ceremony was very beautiful. Harm wore his dress whites and then we got to ride on a. . ."

"_IN VEGAS?"_ She interrupts and I am starting to get annoyed, it would be nice to get one word out. _"Mac, I know you love my son and I know he loves you but you can not let him woo you into these crazy schemes of his."_ At that my mind goes into a whirl, 'crazy schemes'? Just how many of these _schemes_ has Harm indulged in. I guess I'll have to ask him when the call is over. _"Thank GOD Harm's afraid of needles else next thing I know you two will run off to a tattoo parlor to get matching tattoos.'_" Well, maybe not MATCHING tattoos, but Harm is inked and. . .

"I already got one." Harm says triumphantly and I chose to keep my mouth shut, for now, of the ordeal that it was. "And according to _my_ tattoo artist, couples shouldn't get matching tattoos or each other's name, it's bad luck on the relationship." Now the tattoo artist is _his_? Really, I could just slap the man. By the silence on the line Trish has just had a coronary. "Mac also has a tattoo, I'll have you know."

This time I can't hold back my want to attack the man and I wind up slapping Harm on the back of the head.

"Owww. Hey!" He complains and then raises a brow as if wondering what he did wrong. After a second or two, he turns his attention to the silent phone. "Mom? You still there?"

"_I am trying to formulate something to say. . .Obviously the two of you are beyond help."_

"Trish. . .We appreciate you. . ._I_ appreciate you, but this whole wedding thing was starting to get too crazy. ..I've already planned a huge wedding once and found it to be draining." I don't elaborate as to _who's_ wedding I planned, for all she knows it was a friend's. The time I spent waiting for the wedding to Mic that never happened was like a horror movie. So many damned things to do and not do.

I hear her snort, something I wasn't sure the woman was capable of. _"If you are referring to that Bugme character, I can see why the whole wedding panning would be draining."_

I glance over at Harm and drill him with an evil glare. Great, not only am I an eloper, but if he told hr about _my_ past, the woman probably thinks I am a slut. "Mom! Look. . .we did what we did because _we_ wanted to . .Mac and I chose to elope. It wasn't _my_ idea, it wasn't _her_ idea it was _our_ idea and we enjoyed it. . .I understand you want to do a big wedding, but that's just _not_ going to happen. End of story." He breathes out heavily and by the silence of the line I believe Harm has finally gotten through to her.

My next concern is going to come in the form of AJ Chegwidden, Harriet Simms, Bud Roberts and Sturgis Turner all who are going to kill us. Come to think about it, we're so screwed.

As the silence extends itself, Harm makes to turn off the phone until I hear what sounds like a ghost of sorts. "Okaaaay?" I stare down at phone and realize the sound is coming from it. Trish is crying. Maybe it's the machine that makes her sound. . .odd, but it's definitely disconcerting. "Trish, don't cry."

"Mom. . .I didn't meant to yell, but this is _my_ life. . ."

"Correction, it's _our_ life." I interject my dear husband who smiles at me. Oh yeah, I can see us going through some ups and downs but it'll be _so_ worth the ride. "Trish, talk to us."

She sniffles a few times and then, finally clears her throat to speak. _"It doesn't have to be anything huge. . .and I'll take care of everything."_

Harm sighs deeply and then turns to me with an expectant look on his face. "What do you think, Mac?"

Part of me wants to have all of our friends there sharing in the experience. Part of me _wants_ that wedding of a lifetime but Harm and I aren't traditional people and the last thing I want to do is compromise _our _relationship just for a fancy ceremony. Still, the place we were going to pick was so beautiful and it would be nice to have a proper honeymoon and. . . "Okay, fine. . .but no church. . .We're already married."

Trish, who was wailing just moments ago, suddenly sounds _much_ better. _"This is great. .. Okay, no church, but could we still have a priest or minister give you the vows just to make it a little more official?" _Really, she sounds perfect now and I suspect that all her crying was just crocodile tears. We've been played.

"Uh, I guess." Harm says. "But, mom, try to calm down, we're not in a rush."

Hah! Like she'll calm down. I think Trish was more excited about me marrying Harm than I was. Nah, that's not true, when he proposed I thought I was having a coronary. _"I'm fine dear. . .so, where are you two planning on living?_"

"His apartment."

"Her apartment."

We say in unison and then chuckle at the thought. "My apartment is bigger but this place is so nice." I really will not force him to get rid of his place and if he wants me to move in, so be it. I don't have the attachment to my apartment that Harm has to his. Although, there's always a warm sort of feeling in my place compared to Harm's bachelor pad. I sigh and catch my husband's attention. "Maybe we should find another place? Something a bit bigger?" I offer and Harm is toying with the idea, I can tell.

"_THAT would be lovely. I can come down and help you. . ."_

"Mom, you've done enough. . .I'm going to let you go now. . .My wife and I _are_ newlyweds." He gets this mischievous gleam in his eyes and I believe he's planning on picking up where we left off. Good, I was getting tired of waiting around wrapped up in a bed sheet.

"_But, Harmon!"_

That's the last we hear of Harm's mom as he proceeds to pull the phone cord out of the back of the machine. "Now, where were we?" He asks, his eyebrows raising up and down suggestively.

"I think we were about to make love on _our_ couch."

"Our couch?" He seems to weigh the idea or a concept that was foreign to us. "I like that. . .what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine therefore it's ours."

I would applaud if my hands weren't so busy trying to unravel the sheet from him. "Mmm Hmm. . .I'm glad I married such a smart, sexy man."

He lowers his body onto mine, our lips pressing together almost feverishly. Wedding plans are carelessly tossed out of our minds as we continue our dance of lovers. And then, somewhere between kisses and moans of pleasure I hear a cell phone ringing off of the kitchen island. We groan in unison and I wrap my legs tightly around Harm's waist to prevent him from running off. "Leave _our_ cellphone alone. . .whoever it is can leave a message." He lowers himself back onto me and the phone is ignored.

An hour later, I'm draped over Harm who's running lazy circles on my back. "Mmmm. I guess we christened _our_ couch." We've made love in several places ever since we've gotten together which included his couch. But I get his drift and lift my head up to look at him. "What?"

"Well, we need to get busy, flyboy. . .we still have my couch to turn into our couch. And then there is my bed. . .your bed. . .the kitchen tables. . ." Anything else dies on my lips as Harm, in a lightning fast maneuver is off of the sofa and carrying me, over his shoulder towards the bedroom.

I hope his neighbors don't mind the noise much, it's going to be a long night.


	3. Rabbnapped!

**Thanks for the support on the story guys! You rock!!**

**Enjoy**

**Jackie**

**Part 3 - Rabbnapped!**

I've been in many an odd situation before. Mac and I have certainly gone through our share of harrowing experiences.

This may take the cake. Though it isn't all that harrowing.

I am sitting on an metal chair patiently waiting while my captor, One Tooth Bob finishes dialing an antique, rotary phone with the same hand that he's using to hold a pistol that looks as if it came out of a museum's revolutionary war exhibit.

This guy is not a terrorist, nor a member of the militia, but he's captured me anyway and ever since I haven't been either scared nor worried but just extremely annoyed. He wears extremely faded blue jeans who have obviously been cut and made into shorts. The steel toe boots he's wearing seems to have been sitting in mud for their lifetime. His shirt was obviously hijacked from some female teenager as it's three sizes too tight, stopping right at his naval and emblazoned with the words 'I heart Backstreet Boys.' Something tells me that Bob is not the Backstreet Boys' kinda fan. I can only thank God that Bob's skinny and therefore I've been saved from staring at some potbellied idiot.

While trying to roll the zero on the rotary phone, Bob's finger hits the trigger and sends a bullet flying a little too close to my direction. Bob offers a grin my way and then snorts. "Sorry."

"I see why you're called One Tooth Bob." I say, trying to make some form of conversation. But really, I don't see why they call him One Tooth Bob. His teeth may be grimy, but they are all still there.

Bob shakes his head. "No siree! It's One TEEF Bob. TEEF not TOOF. Yous best be getting' dat raight." He says in some hillbilly, redneck that's more difficult to understand than the Roberts' twins baby talk.

Sighing, I glance out of the window to the old fishing shack he's holding me in. It'll be dark in around an hour and though I should consider trying to figure out what Bob wants with me, all I can think about is Mac. . .worrying. That's not a combination that is good for a man's health, especially not mine.

To top it all off, Mom's in town for the day and we were supposed to have dinner with her a La Tours. Okay so that equates to one worrying, hungry Marine officer and one overbearing, equally worried mother who already wants to kill me for eloping. Yup, I am a dead man. Bob may as well chop me up into little pieces.

Mom probably thinks I am ignoring her and Mac will probably think that I left her. I realize it's an awfully melodramatic way of thinking, but. . . umm. . .ewww. . .Bob has just shoved his hand into his pants and is scratching his umm. . .particulars with the hand holding the gun. I cringe and turn my head away.

Alright, he kidnapped me. But that doesn't meant that I shouldn't care if he blows his balls off. That would be quite messy and, honestly, not a sight I would want to live through. "Uh Bob, you want to watch out there if the pistol goes. . ." BAM! ". . .off."

Thankfully I am spared the pistol going off against his family jewels instead, the bullet hit is foot. Bob starts hopping up and down on his good foot, yelping, whilst trying to take his hand out of his pants. Another round goes off and almost hits his good foot. Dear lord! "Bob! Sit down!"

The slew of profanities – err – I think they are profanities, I really can't understand anything past a 'mutha' this and 'freakin'' that – erupts. "Bob, sit down before you blow your balls off!"

My command seems to irritate the irate man and rather that listen, he hops over to me on his good foot, hand still down his pants. "Lookee here, mister. . .Yous best be shuttin' up. . ."

Even with the gun, it's really difficult to keep a straight face when a man, who's just blown a hole through his foot, wearing a Backstreet Boys' t-shirt, is trying to look threatening. Even Mac would appreciate this situation. "I'm sorry. . .Listen, why am I here?"

"Oh, you know!"

No. I don't. "Uh, well. . .actually Bob. . ."

"Lookee here, Soldier boy. . .Yous justa be quiet. . ." He's stuttering between the words, the pain of having shot a hole in his foot obviously a sensation that Bob isn't liking. Who would?

"Actually, Bob, I am a _sailor_ not a _soldier. . ._I'm Navy."

"Navy, Air Force, Army, Marines, Coast Guard. . .It's all the same." Actually, it's not, but I decide not to argue that point, somehow I think he'll miss it anyway. "Justa you wait unteel my lil Noreen sees ya! Hooo doggy, she'll be happy!"

I have the better sense to stay quite, really I do, but. . .okay, I am curious. "Bob, who is Noreen?"

He's now sitting on the floor attempting to get his hand with the gun out of his pants. "Noreen's me sister, you idiot!" Oh. His sister. "She'sa wantin' a militia man forever."

Militia? Oh brother. "And she chose me?" I say, gulping at the thought of some rather homely looking girl, missing her two front teeth and with hair grimier than Bob's. Sorry Mac, can we get a divorce? Bob's sister Noreen and I be hitched. Yup, that would go over _so_ well.

Bob shakes his head up and down vigorously. "We's saw you's with a girl. . .big boobs, thin. . .real purdy. . .Noreen says to me, she says 'Bobbie, I wanna be a girl like her with a guy like him." He finally gets his hand out, tearing up a piece of his underwear which is now stuck to the gun. Dear God, how did he survive to be this old? "Aha! Ah, well. . .anyhoo. . .So, I says to meself, I says 'Bob, yous best be gettin' yer sister what she wants. . .and she wants you."

Me. She wants me. Don't I have a say in this? "Bob, I would really love to meet your sister, I would, but I am already married."

"I don't see no ring." He points out, his eyes scanning my fingers which, indeed, don't have a ring besides my Academy ring. It was Mac's idea to keep the wedding hush hush for now so as not to piss anyone else off.

"Ah, well, no. . see me and the lady you saw, well. . we went to Vegas and . . ."

Bob doesn't seem pleased by this if the scowl on his face is any indication. "Yous two got hitched in Vegas?" He shakes his head hard and then makes the sign of the cross. Who would have thought he was so religious? "Jesus'll be angry with yous, getting hitched without no minister or priest."

I wanted to tell him about the ceremony but, somehow, I doubt he'd give a damn. Instead, I sigh deeply, wondering for the umpteenth time how the hell I got here. Oh, right, an investigation. The General had put Mac and I on a case where a Petty Officer had stolen his CO's sailboat. So, I opted to head down to the James Creek Marina in order to figure out how the hell the kid had gotten a hold of the vessel to begin with. Mac suggested and I have to concur, that he likely used a small boat to head into the marina and then jumped on the sailboat. Did I mention that the Petty Officer is a SEAL? That fact alone is enough to probably put the guy away for a few years.

So, I headed out here and the next thing I know there's a sharp pain to the base of my skull and I wake up to he smell of rotted wood and fish guts. "Uh, Bob, look. . .My wife is going to be really worried about me." However, she still won't know where I am. See, I kinda took off while she was out having lunch with Harriet. I really don't know how long I've been out here, Bob has taken my watch. Oh to have Mac's sense of timing.

"Well yous just have to wait unteel Noreen sees ya." Great. I really do hope that Noreen will hurry up.

A few hours pass and I can tell, by the lack of light in the bait shack that night has started to fall. It's then that I hear a rustling at the door and in comes, whom I expect is Noreen. ""Ah there ya be, Sis. I's been waitin' on yous all day!" Bob now has some duct tape tied around his foot but it's still bleeding pretty bad and I suspect he'll be losing consciousness soon. Too bad it wouldn't be soon enough.

Noreen isn't really a bad looking woman, as far as I can tell. And then she got closer ad I was allowed to see that all but one of her teeth were missing and her hair was the consistency of steel wool. "Honey, I'ma home. . .Bobbie, why'dya pick dis place?" Apparently her vocabulary is just as rich as Bob's.

"I had no choice, the soldier boy came out here on an eenvesitation." I don't bother correcting him on either point.

She gives me a once over, almost as if I am a prized Stallion and then settles down on her knees before me. "Bobbie, let's get started. . .Mister, yous the most hansem man I's ever laid eyes on."

Glad she thinks so. I smile slightly, only to be polite as my brain starts to work over time on the best method of getting out of here. Then I spot Bob pulling out something that resembles a bible from a rucksack he's carrying. "Bobbie's an ordained minister."

"Ah, wonderful." Shoot me, please. Better yet, wake me from this nightmare. I smell some sort of hard liquor on her breath and her eyes seem so glazed over it's possible that she'd just indulged in a little pot session before deciding to marry me. Mentally I ask for Mac's forgiveness and opt to keep a better look out for suspicious activity.

Noreen remains kneeled next to me and Bob hobbles back with the bible in tow. "Ready, Noreen?" At her nod he begins with something like "Dearly betrothed. . ." I don't hear the rest, simply drown it out and think about happier things.

It's somewhere between "Do you take this man" and Noreen's acceptance that the shack's door is kicked open. A bright light blinds me and I hear a familiar voice telling Bob and Noreen to stay put else they will be shot.

Next, I feel a hand on my shoulder and glance up amidst the tears in my eyes from being blinded, to find the face of an angel. I must be losing my mind. "Mac?"

"Hang on, flyboy, we'll get you out of here in a bit." She's dressed in some sort of black, commando gear, a knit cap holding back her hair and an automatic rifle slung over her shoulders.

I grin at the sight. "You look hot."

"Thanks." She says and leaves me tied up enough to make sure that the brother and sister are in custody.

Minutes later, we head out of the shack, my body weight slightly on hers as my legs try to regain their feeling. Sitting tied up on a chair for hours on end can be a painful situation. "How'd you find me?"

"When you didn't get back to JAG in time for us to head to La Tours I started to get worried. Your cellphone would go to voice mail. Next time, let someone know where you're going!" She snaps at me all of a sudden and that marine façade crumbles a bit to reveal a worried wife. "The only reason why we found you at all was because the Marina's Captain called to reschedule when you never showed up. . .He found your car in the parking lot and we put two and two together from there." She sighed slightly and shook her head. "I thought Petty Officer Collins caught you. . .who were they?"

I shrug. "They saw you and I together and the sister decided to marry me." It was the easiest explanation to give. I mean, really, why elaborate?

Mac laughs. "Yeah, we heard a bit of the conversation before the team and I decided to move in."

"Eloping wasn't enough, Mr. Rabb? You needed to add another wedding to your repertoire?" Turning around I spot General Creswell dressed in the same attire as Mac's.

"You knew we eloped?" Of course he knew, he's the General! The man probably has JAG bugged.

Creswell pins me with a glare. "Rabb, get your head out of your ass will you? I would appreciate you two keep it low key though. Chegwidden left a contingency plan for you two, I just want to make sure it can stay in place."

"Thank you, sir." I allow Mac to guide me towards my SUV and slide into the passenger's seat without so much of an argument as to who should drive. All I want is a hot bath and a bed. La Tours would have to wait. "I'm glad you found me, Marine."

Mac chuckles, I am glad she's finding the situation so funny. "Yeah, me too. . .last thing I need is for my husband to get charged for bigamy." Despite the situation, I have to laugh. God, the things that happen to us.

"Is mom pissed off?"

"Nope, she's pretty worried, so I think you're off the hook." I sigh in relief and pull on the handle to recline the seat back. "Don't relax too much, we still need you to give a statement."

The notion makes me grown loudly. Aww hell, the day's all ready ruined, what's a few more hours? As we pass out of the Marina I find a squad car holding both Bob and Noreen. "Ya know, you can't make fun of this situation too much. . .Bob had the hots for you." I say smugly and glance over at Mac's figure. "He liked your boobs." What straight man wouldn't?

"Should I red light you now or later?" She states in a tone that makes me believe she wasn't too serious on the traffic signal thing.

Exhasperated, I huff. "Aren't we past the point of traffic signals, _honey_?"

"Sure we are. . . I'll be sure to remember that when I tell Harriet about the animal print undies you wore during our stay in Vegas."

I gulp knowing full well she was going to, eventually, use that on me. "On second thought. . ."


	4. The Mission, Part 1

Hey gang!

No, I have not forgotten about you. Just busy busy busy busy. I should be  
less busy next week and should be able to get back to writing and to start  
posting the Diane story. Ask V, Diane is not so nice. ;)

Anyway... here's a story some of you have been missing.

Enjoy!

J.

**Part 4 – The Mission, Part 1**

"Why is it that I get nervous every time Cresswell calls us into his office?" Harm asks as we meander our way past the bullpen and towards said office.

I shrug. "Not a clue. After finding him and Mrs. Cresswell in that closet, I am having a hard time worrying much about him." It also helped that I kicked his ass the three times we've gone shooting. The thought makes me smile.

As of late, I've noticed Harm growing increasingly worried whenever Cresswell makes his appearance into the office. The man can fly a Tomcat, while a dirty nuke is on his six and not even sweat at that, but when the General calls him for something, Harm looks about to piss his pants. "Things have just been_ too_ easy lately."

Though I am inclined to agree, "You call being kidnapped by some hillbilly, easy? Christ, I'd hate to see what you think is hard." Coates immediately escorts us into the General's office where none other than Clayton Webb is standing wearing his ever present three piece suit. How in the world I was ever involved with the man, I do not know. Chalk it up to Stockholm's Syndrome, PTSD or any other four letter disorder. It has become difficult not to loathe the man after everything he'd put me through. True, I partially subjected myself to it, but, in my own defense, I didn't want another failed relationship in my life. Damn the man, he failed me and made me out to be a fool. And I, in turn, hurt the person I love most in this world because I couldn't handle the pressure. Sigh, life can take you on a roller coaster ride sometimes. And, if Webb's hear, that means we're going on another ride, I am sure.

"Commander, Colonel. . .Mr. Webb and I have been discussing some. . .rather interesting situations the three of you have been involved in." Beside me, I can feel Harm tense and part of me is quite sure he'd be willing to pound Webb to a zillion little pieces, something I wouldn't mind seeing. Hell, I'd sell tickets to that!

It's Harm that has the control to speak first without saying something truly derogatory. God bless him. Any of my sentences would have begun with some curse word. "Yes, sir. Agent Webb has sent the Colonel and I on various assignments. Few of which have gone smoothly." Harm can be so eloquent sometimes.

Webb had never been the type to stay quiet, not even after Admiral Chegwidden broke his nose. "Some assignments had a few rough patches. But, you two are still alive. Something must have gone right."

Never mind that, from time to time, I get nightmares that involve Sadik, but yeah, something must have gone right. "Oh yeah, it went really right last time, when you nearly got Mac killed and. . ."

Thankfully Cresswell decided to cut Harm off before he exposed more than I would like him to be privy to. "Before this turns into a pissing match, Mr. Webb, could you please get on with it?"

Webb clears his throat and reaches into a briefcase that sits open on Cresswell's desk. I swallow down the bile that has risen up in my throat and urge myself not to strangle the man. "I realize that I am the last person the two of you want to see, but we need you."

Shocker. Surprise. Break out the confetti.

"The SECNAV has approved this joint mission in lieu of your resent nuptials."

Shocker. . .Woah, wait! "The SECNAV knows?" I turn to Harm who shares my look of dismay and horror. I think I now realize his fears pertaining to our CO which stems from the likelihood that we will soon be separated. Christ. I know we're spending entirely too much time together than is feasible for a married couple, however, I like our routine. It works. We've spent nearly a decade evading each other. Shit, if Harriet and Bud can do it, so can we!

Cresswell nods. "He found out a week ago and it's taking me all of my political pull not to send the both of you packing just yet." Just yet? Just yet?! Shit.

"That's where I come in." Webb says smugly and hands us each a sheet of paper with details that seem strikingly familiar to our own. "This mission is fairly easy. . .I need the two of you to play newlyweds."

Harm smiles widely at the super spook with a superior, "I won" type of undertone that nearly made me laugh. Ugh, men. "That we can do. . .In fact, Mac and I play 'house' pretty well." Again, ugh! I can not believe he said that in front of Cresswell. Uh, huh, I'll kill him tonight. No, wait. . .killing is bloody and messy. I have a better way to fix this. No sex. Harm won't last more than a couple of days.

"A couple with marital problems." Webb clarifies matching Harm's currently fading, smug grin. We haven't been married long and already he's assuming that we've got problems? I mean, just because he and I had problems doesn't mean that Harm and I ever will. I hope. "There's a therapist that works for the agency and who we believe is supplying information to an outside source about the mental state of our agents and the things they've been involved with." Receiving therapy after something as huge as CIA missions is pretty much SOP and the amount of things that company shrinks hear is probably scary. "Doctor Andy Jorgen was a former agent who decided to study psychiatry after suffering a near lethal injury during an assignment." There were no pictures of this Dr. Jorgen or much information to go on – typical, cryptic, classified, CIA. "Doctor Jorgen sometimes offers family counseling and it would be the perfect outlet for you to seduce the good doctor."

"What?!" Harm and I yell at the same time. "Seduce? Are you out of your mind?" My husband turns away from Webb and tries to plea to the General. "I don't know if I'm comfortable with the Colonel trying to seduce this therapist, sir."

Despite my own feelings on the situation, I find myself glaring at Harm. "_Commander,_ while it is touching that you care so much, I am perfectly capable of…" My "I'm a Marine" speech is cut short.

"Andy is a woman, Commander. . ._You'll_ be seducing her. . .Or, from what I gather, she'll be seducing you." Just like that, the ball's in Harm's court and by the look on his face, he's less than thrilled.

"No." Is his answer and we get sideswiped, completely and utterly.

Cresswell stands up, comes around his desk and leans against the front, his arms across his chest. "If the two of you pull this off with minimal problems I have a feeling that the SECNAV will keep the two of you at JAG as long as the military permits."

The only bad thing about this marriage is the number of hoops we will surely have to go through. Still, this doesn't sound too bad. At the very least we don't have to do much traveling. "I think the Colonel and I will need time to discuss this, sir."

"Discussion will not be necessary. If you are willing to go along with this, so am I." Out of the corner of my eye, I find Webb cringing. Actually, he kinda looks like he's about to puke.

Harm concedes with a sigh. "Okay, Webb. . .hand over the details."

An hour later, we're heading out of Cresswell's office, each holding a folder. We step into my office and Harm slides into one of my chairs. "This is gonna suck."

"For you, maybe. I'm just along for the ride." It will really be amusing to watch him try to seduce a woman. Or, have her seduce him whilst pretending to be interested. "Just don't let this whole seduction thing get to your head, Rabb."

His smile is huge as if he knows a secret that I don't. "We haven't even started this and already you're jelous."

"Of a woman I've never met? Hardly. . .Besides, did you see the photos? She's rather… homely looking." Not that I am the sexiest woman alive, far from it, but if the woman is a therapist, you'd figure she'd primp up a little more. Andy seems to have wolfed down one Quarter Pounder too many and apparently enjoys working in her flannel pajamas if the pictures are anything to go with. "And then the name Andy. . .In real life she's probably a. . ."

". . .knockout." Harm's jaw seems to have hit the floor, literally. He holds up a picture of someone that can not possibly be Dr. Jorgen. The woman looks like she's been sculpted by a Greek God in order to piss off Aphrodite. Long black hair, teeny waist and a six pack so chiseled you can count the muscles. "And she goes by Andrea now."

I glance at the picture in disgust. "Tomorrow, when we head to Dr. Jorgen's office, remind me to pack my field knife." It's going to be a long day. But, looking at the bright side, it's another day that we don't have to do wedding plans.

**To Be Continued…**


	5. The Mission, Part 2

**Nope, never forget about these, but sometimes some parts are weird to work out. Anyhoo, there are a few fun things I am working on. ;)**

**As usual, these are not betaed and rarely checked. Call them my spontaneous musings.**

**Hope you guys remember PArt 4!**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Part 5 – The Mission, Part 2.**

The Mission: Aka: Therapy From Hell, is not going too well. Oh, it started just fine, with casual conversations about everything and nothing but, when Jorgen started to head down the path of our "troubles", things just got waaaaay out of proportion. I'm afraid Mac's going to seriously do bodily harm to the woman and I can't blame her.

"Liposuction?"

"Yes. . .Well, at your age."

"At MY age?"

Oh God. Out of the blue, and I suspect as a reason to prevent the death of Dr. Jorgen, Mac takes my hand and squeezes with the grip of a vice. I hide a painful groan with something that sounded like a cat coughing up a hairball only to have both Jorgen and Mac stare at me as if I've interrupted them. "Excuse me, allergies."

I don't need to be a mind reader to figure out that Mac's probably wishing she'd packed that field knife. Come to think about it, I should have frisked her before we stepped into this office, she's probably packing heat as we speak. "I'm a Yoga instructor, Dr. Jorgen, I don't _need_ liposuction."

The kind doctor does a 'hrmppf' sound and shakes her head as if Mac had just said the dumbest thing. "Mrs. Cleaver (that's our cover, by the way, Max and Judy Cleaver… riiiiiiiiiiight, as if Mac and I look like a Max and a Judy… note to self: kill Webb.) it's just a suggestion. . .As women grow older, the hormones get out of whack and an excess of estrogen can cause a few pounds here and. . ."

"_A few _pounds?!" Oh shit.

"She doesn't need it, Doctor. . .Mac-errrr. . Judy is _very_ fit." And I can attest to that considering that I saw her naked last night and this morning in the shower. I grin widely at the memory and Mac's hand grips mind tightly again, snapping me out of my fantasies. This whole mission has been one huge train wreck.

Did I mention that Andrea "Andy" Jorgen actually looks better in real life than she did in the picture? She's about an inch taller than Mac and wears skirts that are completely inappropriate for this type of setting. More than a therapist, the woman looks like she's out to get a man. Instead of paying attention to her questions, all I can think about is the length of the skirt and how hot it would look on Mac.

Yes, I now look at an attractive woman and wonder what said woman's outfit would look on my wife. Damnit, I've got it bad. Maybe I'd be able to get the good doctor to tell me where she bought it? It being the skirt. I wonder if Mac would like it in blue? Christ, she would look _so_ hot in blue.

Turning towards my wife, I find her with a irritated look. "What were you going to say?"

I raise a brow in question, "Me?"

"Of course. . .You were going to call me by another name weren't you?" Ah, yes, little slip, sorry honey!

"I, ah. . .errr. . .umm." My answer couldn't have been more perfect. Sadly, it was completely natural. This whole trying to get Dr. Jorgen to seduce me think is really making me uncomfortable. And if Mac doesn't stop SQUEEZING the blood out of my hand. . . "Ma-umm-Jennie. No! Judy!"

"THERE! You did it again!" She throws her hands up in anger which I completely hope is the false kind. Honestly, Mac is probably _really, _truly, pissed off at the moment. With that, she stands up, saunters to the other side of the office and takes up residence on a sofa that looks quite inviting, really.

I stand up and make it half way across the room, careful to keep my distance. "Judy, baby. Come sit next to me, please." I offer a hand to her.

In a movement that looks like a princess having a hissy fit, Mac holds her hand up, palm facing me. "Max, I _don't care_ to sit next to someone who's clearly out to destroy our relationship." She all but yells and I find myself cringing. Jesus Christ, let us never have a problem with each other. Honestly, Mac yelling tends to scare me.

"Destroy? _You_ are the one that wanted to date other people just to 'see how it feels.'" Mac's jaw drops and I can tell that it was an actual reaction and not a falsified one. Her eyes shine with mirth and I realize that I've just scored a point or two in our fake argument. You know, this is fun – almost like role play! "Don't look at me that way, Judy. . .Be honest, just for once."

A second later a rather large book is flung across the office and towards me at lightening speed. Actually, it wasn't _at me_. At least, I hope it wasn't. Either Mac has terrible aim or should be pitching for the Washington Nationals. "Why you, slimy, son of a bitch."

I take a few steps backwards, hoping to head back to my chair, but, instead, I slam right into something soft. In my shock, I yelp and spin quickly, coming face to face with Dr. Jorgen. "Why are you standing behind me?" I swear, just before turning around, Andy was grabbing my six!

Andy retrieves the book from the floor, making sure I get a good view of _her _six as she does. "She was throwing a book, Max. I figured hiding behind you was a good idea."

I hear a groan. . .ah, no. . .that was a growl. Oh yeah, definitely a growl. Anyway, it comes from Mac who is suddenly on her feet and headed towards us. "I wanted to see other people because you _obviously _can't keep your eyes to yourself!" Mac jabs at my chest and I thank God that she didn't do it any harder. I am not sure what feels bruised the most, my ego or my body. "I can see you ogling Dr. Jorgen!" I go to argue, but she cuts me off. "Don't deny it. . .I'm out of here." She buries her head in her hands and races past us and out the door.

As she leaves I feel a sickening feeling at the pit of my stomach and realize, to my dismay that Dr. Jorgen has a hand wrapped around one of mine. "Max, give her some time. She'll come around. Come sit with me."

'Never leave a man behind' my ass, that's exactly what Mac did. I should report her to the Corps! "Okay." She guides me to the sofa and sits a tad too close for my liking. "Look, I am not sure about Ma-umm- Judy dating another guy. . .I mean, it was a suggestion that she made once out of anger but uh. . ."

My rambling comes to an end as she places a hand on my lips. "So, enough about that. . .What area of the CIA did you work for?"

"Aviation." I say, which isn't really a lie. "I flew the planes and then got an opportunity to be a field agent."

"Exciting job, isn't it?"

No. "Very!" I say with enthusiasm that I don't feel. The Aurora aside, there's nothing more exciting than landing a hunk of screaming metal onto a carrier the size of a postage stamp, in the middle of the ocean. Go Navy! "My last mission. . .whew. . .that was a doozy."

"Reeaally?" Her eyes gleam wickedly and she moves in closer, her hand now on my upper thigh. I really, really, really, really, REALLY, hope Mac doesn't walk in at this particular moment.

I nod, lean forward and whisper. "You know, classified and what not. . . It was in Cuba. . . An arms dealer was trading some blow for weapons. . ." Her eyes light up a bit more. I figure that is exactly what her new handler is looking for – arms. It's a hot commodity no matter which way you squeeze it and easier to get than through the legal methods. "I mean, the guy had all kinds. .AK's, M-16s." I lean in closer and look around for effect. "They've even got the HRSM63." My sense of unease makes me realize how easy it would be fore a man, who has been through a harrowing experience and then had to deal with his spouse's own traumas, could reveal all sorts of inappropriate material. In this case, her past patients probably thought that her top secret clearance was safe from being exploited.

"HRSM63?"

"Yeah, it's this. . .revolutionary, rifle sort of thing. Except, that it has radar, almost like the kind that you'll find on an jet. . .It's a future weapon. You lock onto the target, take cover, fire and the bullet will find it's way to the intended person. . . Sad part is that not all of those were confiscated by the agency."

She is now so close that at any moment Andy is bound to fall into my lap. "So what happened to the others?"

I shrug. "They must still be inside the little hut by the beach on the southwestern tip of the island, near the Isla de la Juventud." I say in my terrible Spanish which I manage to murder with each word I utter. So much for all of the lessons taught to me by Maria Elena Carmelita Romero Gutierrez. Okay, so those lessons weren't _all_ about Spanish. Mac doesn't need to know about those, thank you!

"So, if, let's say, someone wanted to get a hold of an HR-whatever, how would they go about it?" She's running circles on my leg, moving a bit higher as she goes along. Oh, how I wish she would stop. This mission already gives me the creeps and I don't need to add to it.

I look into her eyes, noting that Mac's are prettier. Yeah, blue eyes, green eyes, hazel eyes – those are hot commodities, but Mac's eyes have this gleam to them that is absolutely stunning. "There's the dealer's brother, Juan Manuel Gonzalez, he's hiding them. . .I thought about getting one for myself."

Jorgen's hand is now, seriously close to my crotch and I squirm as she tries to inch closer. It can't be _this _easy, can it? She can't be so desperate to give information to the handler that she's revealing her cards _this _early? "Can you get me a few? Ten would do. . .I like to collect weapons. You know? A girl's gotta take care of herself." She says cheekily and I am curious as to what CIA sap fell for the bimbo in distress line that she's feeding me.

A moment before she crosses the line between marginally unethical and COMPLETELY unethical, the door flies open and in comes Mac and Webb. Okay, wait, stop right there – those are two names that I never, ever, want to say paired together again. So, the door flies open and in comes Webb and a team of CIA agents. Then came Mac.

"Dr. Andrea Jorgen, you are to be taken into custody for espionage, illegal weapon trafficking and. . ." A slew of other charges and Andy is hauled off to wherever the hell the CIA locks it's bad guys. . . I really hope they have an internal jail. The last thing that we need is for the woman to suddenly get lose. It _is_ Webb's mission after all and though it went well, there's always the chance of a flaw.

Mac wraps her arms around my neck and lowers me down for a gentle kiss. I can sense the ire rising in Webb, who quickly turns around and gives directions to another spook. At least, I think she was a spook. "You done good, sailor. Webb, can we go now?"

He shakes his head and smirks in a fashion that alerts me to many more hours at Langley. "Nope, you have to debrief."

"Hey. Jorgen got closer to my _briefs_ than I wanted her to. Cut us some slack. You heard everything. You know what happened." And although it is standard operating procedures for the CIA, Webb gives in with a sigh.

"Fine, you can go. But, don't disappear for the next day or two, I may need to have the two of you back in here in order to close the case."

Mac frowns. "As long as it has something to do with putting Jorgen away, we'll be here. If not, please keep JAG out of it, huh?"

We walk past the spook and towards the door when I hear him call my name. "Hey Rabb? Where did you get HRSM63 from? Is it some component on an F-14?"

I grin sheepishly at him. "I happen to have a few secrets up my sleeve Webb. HRSM63 is the password to my computer at JAG. . .It's my initials, Mac's initial's and my birth year."

"Forget I asked." Webb snorts and heads off without as much as a goodbye. I guess it's fitting that way considering that I wound up with the girl.

Mac has that 'cat that ate the canary' look. "You don't have to be _so_ smug about it, you know?"

"About what?"

She plants a quick kiss on my lips as if that is the answer to her comment. "You've had me for a very long time. Webb was just. . ."

"A detour?" I offer, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging towards the open door. "Yeah, well, it served a purpose. I now know not to take things for granted." And on that vein, I now have to find a new password. The last thing I need is a spook searching around my files. Not everything on my computer at headquarters is work related.


	6. Wonderful Destination

Hey gang! I've been sitting on this one for a while, not sure what to do  
next. I do have some fun ideas, but needed something for this part and was  
just stuck... Well, here it is and the next one brings an old friend of  
Mac's back. A friend that Harm is not to pleased to see. ;)

Enjoy!!  
Jackie

**Part 6 – Wonderful Destinations.**

My heals click loudly on, what sounds like, a solid wood floor. I am led, rather briskly I might add, by Trish who is enthusiastically rattling off about how 'beautiful' and 'elegant' the place she dragged me to is.

"Don't peek, dear." Did I mention I was blind folded? Yup, Harm's mom sprung a surprise lunch visit – which she managed to clear with the General (I'll get him later!) – and now, to my complete confusion and blindness, took me to. . .to. . .well, I don't know where actually. "Stay here." She tells me and I hear her heels click across the floor.

A million things are going through my head as to what my mother-in-law has dragged me into. I know it has something to do with the second wedding and I know that Harm knows. The man has had a shit-eating grin for the last three days. I smile at the thought of finding breakfast in bed this morning. Not that we haven't done each other that favor before, but this was a work day which means that he was up before the sun.

Assassin had even joined in the fun and bounded into our room covered in pancake mixture that I will have to clean off of our sheets later tonight. He barked spiritedly at Harm until he presented me with a single, wilting rose which he hijacked from an arrangement that had been sitting at the top of our coffee table. He can't always be Mr. Romantic, but it's the small overtures that amuse me.

Everything has been going on well, really well. Surprisingly well. Maybe we should have tried this marriage thing nine years ago? I mean, we have our arguments here and there, what couple doesn't. I guess we've always been 'together' in some fashion, we just never realized it. The thought brings a tear to my eye and I sniffle to contain my runny nose.

"Mac, are you crying?" I hear Trish ask.

"No. . .I'm just emotional lately." I don't mind admitting. And there must be something really wrong with me if I even admitted to that. I have been a wreck these last two weeks – crying during the end of G.I. Jane, when Demi Moore gets her trident (Harm and I watched that on Saturday night) and even sniffling through Visa's newest credit card commercial about a family growing old. It's the hormones, stress, exhaustion and. . .NO, I am NOT pregnant!

"You're not?" Trish's voice was flat then; disappointed even. . . Wait a second, did I say that out loud? "Yes, you did, Sarah."

Great, now I can't even control my inner dialogue. The next thing I know my internal clock will take a vacation. "Harm and I _have_ talked about it. . .A baby, I mean." Actually, we haven't. I mean, not really. We did that baby deal God knows when, but when it comes to down to _actually_ having _that_ conversation. . .Nope.

I'm scared.

Yup. Sarah MacKenzie, Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps is SCARED. And with good reason. Harm and I _finally _have a good thing going and while a baby will surely strengthen the bond between us, I am scared to change things. What if we're not ready? What if I'm not ready? What if we wind up with one of those kids that scares your friends and family into hiding? You know? The types that hang from window curtains and smear peanut butter all over the back of Aunt Mary's sofa. With all of the crap that we'd put each other through, I wouldn't be surprised if our bundle of joy turned into a brat just for the universe to spite Harm and I. Okay, so I am reading _way_ too much into this. I know. Calm, Marine.

"Uh, Trish? Can I peek now?" I ask like a petulant child only to be rewarded with laughter. A pat on the back of my hand and a tug later, I find myself. . .I have to be. . . "Are we outside?"

The smell of the sea and the wind licking at my face confirms it. And from my right I hear footsteps, multiple footsteps and then that voice. _His_ voice.

I feel a pair of hands untying the blindfold and immediately I am assaulted with a bright light and the glimmer of the ocean before me. "Oh wow." There is a very large patch of grass with a cement walk way through the middle that leads to an arch. Chairs are neatly arranged on either side, all with a immaculate white color that seemed to glow in the afternoon sun.

"I think that's a yes, Mom." Harm says as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Kinda makes you wish we'd done this all along, huh?"

Although I loved the spontaneity of our Vegas wedding, there's something to be said about a more traditional approach. I guess, all in all, we were a bit selfish, but hey, Harm and I have never accepted the norm. "This was why you were all giddy?"

A rich chuckle was my answer, "I spotted this place on the 'net, talked to Jacques and it turns out that he knows the owner."

I fail to realize that Harm was steering me away from the ocean view and past a garden that leads to a massive banquet hall with arching windows that still allow you the splendid view. "So, we're setting a date?" Thank God, I was getting tired of letting it go. At first, we had hoped that Harm's mother and Jacques would give up. When that didn't happen, we were almost tempted at heading over to Annapolis only to find that they were booked solid and the only day available was on a Wednesday.

Honestly, who the hell gets married on hump day? "Yup. We can have the place two weeks from Saturday. I've already run it by the General and he can spare us for a week."

"A week?" I stare at him suspiciously, wondering what my dear husband has offered in return for such a gesture. "Did you threaten to go on strike?"

A cringe states that the offer would certainly bite us on the ass. "Not quite. . .I actually. . .Well. I. . .Promised him a ride in an F-18."

I raise a brow and pin Harm with, what I am sure, looks like a death glare. "Because it went _so_ well when you took our last CO up in a jet?"

"Jeez, Mac. . Have a little faith, would ya?"

I step away from him in deep consideration. Yes, I am considering where to hide the body after I kill him, as well as the method. "I _do_ have faith in you but, you know I don't like it when you fly." Not that Harm is a bad pilot, far from it, it's just that he seems to have a little bit of bad luck around flying things. Not that I try to keep him grounded but, I wish a little less jet fuel ran through his veins.

He comes close to me and wraps his arms around my waist again. "But you do like going up in Sarah."

That I do, which reminds me. "You still have to teach me to fly her."

Harm gulps loudly and I suppress a chuckle. Boys and their toys. "Uh yeah, I'll surprise you with flying lessons one day."

"You know I am not a fan of surprises." To be fair, one of his last surprises had me spilling hot coffee all over the front of my uniform. It was more of a shock really, but it was enough to ward me away from Harm's surprises. "Especially since. . ."

"The stain got out just fine." He would know seeing as he was downstairs in the laundry room scrubbing my blouse for a good ten minutes before the stain got out. "And I told you I'd never try to scare you again."

"And pay back for that will be a bitch. I just haven't found the right time."

"Ahem!" We stop our bantering to find Harm's mom tapping her foot on the parquet floor while gracing us with a scowl. Damn, I do not want her pissed at me, ever. "You two need to get back to work soon. Could you bicker later, at home?" She sighs deeply, as tired of minding two children and then turns to a man in a deep blue suit, the owner of the establishment. "They'll take it."

We step out of the locale, leaving Harm's mom to go over the details with the owner. Harm had arrived in his Corvette while his mother used the SUV to get me down here. As we head back, I find Harm pinning me with a sappy gaze. "Sooo."

"Yes?"

"Are you going to do the whole sexy garter thing again?"

In vegas, I had it on more for tradition than anything else. This time I'll actually get to throw the damned thing. "Oh yes. . .And this time it's red and lacey with a little bit of black around the edges."

Harm grins. "Ooooh, I think I'll like that."

I bet he will. "And you'll get to take it off with your teeth in front of all of the guests." At that, Harm swerves wildly, nearly hitting an oncoming car before sliding back into our lane, proceeded by a few muttered curses. "You alright?"

Sweat beads are forming on his face, which is now flushed a bright red color. "Before you say it, I am NOT a prude. . .I was just passing."

Uh huh and I am Snow White. "It's tradition to take it off in public."

"I know that. . .but the teeth part."

"Will be fun." I assure him with a pat on the thigh and break out a huge grin. "Did I mention the corset I'll have under? It makes my boobs look. . ."

"MAC!" He yells and this time, manages to keep control of the car.

Innocently, I bat my eyes at him. "What?"

He lets out a breath. "How much time until we have to get back at JAG?"

"Well, neither of us are in court and I believe that the General had to meet with Admiral Shulter about the Navy & Marine Veteran's Ball. . .So, I guess we can be a little late. Why? Didn't you eat anything? Are you hungry?"

"Oh, I'm hungry alright." He says and, just like that, Harm turns on his predatory, devastatingly sexy charm. The flyboy grin goes up some serious wattage. "Just not for food. . .There's this little Inn that I saw outside of town."

Hmmm, I love how the man thinks. "Lead on, Commander." The Navy may just give Marines a ride, but some of these squids know know some wonderful destinations.


	7. The Better Man

**This was going to be a story all on its own but it worked well to incorporate it into the FAOM. You'll agree. ;)**

**Next up should be either the second wedding or the picking of cakes/wines and such.**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Part 7 – The Better Man **

Life is good, really good in fact. I've just beaten Sturgis in one hell of a case. Mac and I, we're awesome, in fact, more than awesome, we're getting married. Again.

I can honestly say that I never thought I'd wind up a married man. It had been a dream of mine but, with all of our ups and downs it's a miracle that it finally came to fruition.

We're good together, damned good if you ask me. Sure, we have our ups and downs, but all in all, we come out of it with minor bumps and bruises.

Sailing through the double glass doors and into the bullpen I spot a Marine leaning against the first desk in the bullpen. Curious, I head towards the man. "Excuse me, sir, is there any  
way that I can. . ." Oh no. The man turns around and I feel my heart sink down to my stomach. "Colonel Farrow, sir." I resist the urge to snap to attention.

"Commander!" He seems genuinely happy to see me. Why? I am not so sure. What unnerves me the most is that, as much as Mac's involvement with him hurt, I can't really bring myself to hate him. "How are you?" Damn, did I want to hate him.

"Doing good, sir. What brings you to JAG?" I don't beat around the bush with him either though I am deathly afraid of his answer.

Farrow stands straight and I find myself doing the same. He's not a short man, but his stature, compared to my own is inadequate. I find some pleasure at that. "I was in DC for a conference and decided to visit Sarah."

_Sarah_. Why is it that every guy, except for me, calls her Sarah? It's not that I don't use her name, I do, but prefer to do so in the confines of _our_ bedroom. She'll always be 'Mac' to me, something that doesn't seem to bother her one bit. "What conference?"

"Classified, I'm afraid." He glances around the bullpen, ignoring my question as he  
settles his eyes on the name plate above her door. "She still has the same office, I see."

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Resist strangling a senior officer. Awww, hell. Jealousy is a bitch. "She's supposed to be in court with Mr. Roberts." I lie. "All day." Another lie. I know full well that Mac's in the break room going over wedding details with Coates.

"Mmmm. I think I'll wait in her office." He saunters his way into Mac's office and takes up residence on one of her guest chairs. Damn the man.

It's then that I spot Bud coming out of the kitchen sporting a silly grin. He's been doing that _a lot_ lately, especially since our up and coming nuptials. He wasn't in court either. Before he has a chance to disappear into his office, I swoop down on him and pull him into a corner, away from Farrow's line of sight. "Bud!"

"Sir?" He looks confused and mildly worried that I've just, pretty much, assaulted him. I release my hand on his bicep finding it to be hard.

"You been working out?"

Bud grins, "Yes, sir. Our community opened up a center and I've been hitting the gym three times a week. Glad you noticed."

Good for him! I smile at our junior attorney and then remember why I attacked him in the first place. "I need a favor." I whisper, hoping it doesn't sound as if I am holding clandestine information.

"Sure, sir! Anything." Ah, that enthusiasm of his I've always admired.

Clearing my throat I motion over to Mac's office and it's new occupant. "You remember Colonel Farrow, right?"

"Yes, sir." Bud sobers as he notices the figure in Mac's office. "He's looking well, isn't he?"

"Uh, whatever. . .Look." Hmmm, maybe blurting it out would be better? "I want you to watch him."

Bud stares at me as if I've blown a gasket. I probably have. But my head can't stop annoying me with images of Mac and Farrow, in a log cabin, curled up in front of the fire while sipping non-alcoholic wine. That is just _not_ going to happen this time.

Wait, it never happened before. It was just a figment of my. . . "Watch him, sir?"

"Yes." Clearly, by Bud's expression, he's not following along. God, sometimes I wish I could read minds or send telepathic messages. I sigh and grunt out my frustrations. "Don't pretend you don't remember that little piece of information that we all found out about Colonel MacKenzie and Colonel Farrow."

"She was a Major then, sir." He points out, aloof at my predicament.

Argh! Sometimes I want to strangle him! "Bud! Keep on track. . .She and  
Farrow had a. . .a. . ." I sigh deeply.

"Relationship, sir?" He finishes for me and smiles in sheepish way that is so, uniquely Bud. "That was a long time ago."

"I know but. . .well. . .argh!" It's then that I deiced to tell him my hallucination which I believed to be induced by bad sushi. "Last year, when Jen was promoted and we went to the Lucky Dream Palace, remember, when we all got the same fortune?"

Bud nods. "Yes, sir. . .I actually kept the fortune. 'Your unspoken desire is the road not taken. Take it!' It's a good message."

Whatever. "Anyway, I had this. . .day dream, hallucination. . ."

I struggle to come up for words and Bud frowns. "Did you hit your head again, sir?"

"No!" Nervously I glance towards the kitchen and then back at Farrow. Any moment now, Mac will head out and my life – _our life - _ will be over. "Look, I had a. . .vision, I guess. . .and. . .Mac and I had been married but, we were separating." I am not even going to begin with the rest of my friend's lives. Or how Bud became the Spa King. "She. . .went to him. . .I  
think, in the end, I stopped her but. . .she went to him." I reiterate and feel my heart sink back to my stomach as Mac and Jen round the corner. "In plain English, I am jealous of him."

Bud raises a brow in amusement. "So you don't trust the woman you are marrying?" Oh, damn the man, now he's playing Devils Advocate.

"Yes, I do. . . I _do _trust Mac. I don't trust _him._"

Bud's amusement doesn't wean one bit. "Sir, I am going to speak freely here. He hasn't passed by, hasn't visited and we haven't seen him since that case, what? Six years ago? If that man really wanted the Colonel, he'd have kept in touch."

Although that makes _some_ sort of sense, how the hell do I know who Mac keeps  
in touch with? "And what if they have kept in touch?"

Frustrated, Bud, shakes his head and sighs. He pats my shoulder and leaves me with his parting thoughts. "Even if they have kept in touch, Harm. Mac's with you. _Not him_." He goes to move past me and then stops and pats my shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her for you." He states and then saunters off towards the fax machine which is five feet away from Mac's open door.

The girls, who could be heard chuckling as they came up the hall, slip back into their professional masks as they step into the bullpen. "Commander." Mac winks at me, her hand brushing mine very gently.

"Colonel." I say back in the similar, flirty tone that she used. "Oh, Mac, you have a guest in your office." I point out as she heads over to the fax machine and leafs through the pages.

Mac glances up at me and then turns to her office with a look of concern. "I don't have any meetings scheduled today."

I knew that. "It's an unexpected visitor." Extremely unexpected. I smile, trying to seem as genuinely happy as I can.

She heads into her office, her expression changing from one of perplexity to amusement. "John." Oh here we go. She shuts the door and any and all discernable conversation grinds down to the bustling of the bullpen. If she had a normal wooden door without the glass, I'd have ordered someone to listen in with a cup or some sort of crude listening device. However, I am screwed. Dejected, I head into my office and throw the door for good measure. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Through my open blinds I spot Bud, giving me the thumbs up. Amused, I stand up and watch as he grabs a file and heads into Mac's office. "Good man, Bud. . .Good man."

No more than a minute later, he returns and slips into my office, a look of triumph on his face. "The Colonel's." Ooh, God, I cringe at how that sounds. "Have asked me to ask you to lunch."

"Lunch?!" Oh no. Oh no, this is just like that. . .hallucination. We'll go to lunch together and I'll have to spent all of that time fielding questions and comments. Shit. I'm fucked. "Lunch. . .Yes, tell the Colonel's that I'll be ready in twenty minutes. I need to make a few calls."

A few calls turned in to more than an hour of, actual, important phone calls. A client decided to  
slug a guard and my, oh so great day, was starting to disappear. As a result, I arrived late to the restaurant to find Mac and John. . .no, that's wrong. Mac and Colonel Farrow seated relatively close to one another. Spotting me, Mac's face lights up as she waves me over. "Hey there, flyboy."

I chose a seat between them. (As between as you could be considering that it's a round table.) Mac's hand slides into my own and she leans in and whispers. "I'd have kissed you if we weren't in uniform." Her eyes twinkle with mischief and Colonel Farrow is forgotten up  
until the point where he clears his throat. "Sorry, John."

"Well, congratulations are certainly in order." He extends his hand to me and I hesitantly take it and shake. "I guess the better man has won."

He did NOT just say that. Chuckling (it was a fake chuckle) I nod in agreement. "I didn't know you were in the running though."

"Ah, I guess I always expected Sarah would wait for me." He stares longingly at her, but Mac doesn't return the look. Instead, she's busy looking at me with a silly grin that she's been wearing a lot of lately. "You're a good man, Commander. Treat her right."

The word has apparently righted itself again. "I will, sir. You can could on that."

John motions to the menu. "Get anything you want, my treat."

"Has Mac invited you to the wedding?" I hear myself ask and quickly want to smack myself. Farrow is my adversary when it comes to Mac and I am inviting him to the wedding? Christ it's like inviting a wolf into a hen house. Still, mom always taught me to be polite.

"Yes, but I'm afraid I can't make it. . .My wife, Claire and I are going to be taking that cruise to Alaska."

That's nice a cruise to. . . wait a minute. "Wife?" I couldn't help the shock in my voice even if I tried.

John reaches inside his breast pocket and pulls out his wallet, then points to a picture of a gorgeous woman, looking to be in her late thirties with dirty blond hair and striking green eyes. "Captain Claire Donovan, Navy. She plucked my six out of the Med three years ago when a mission went awry."

My surprise doesn't dissipate at all. "You're back in the field?"

A sheepish grin is my answer. "Can't keep a good man down, apparently. . .Anyway, we've been married for two years and have an eight month old baby boy, Jake." He shows me Jake's picture and suddenly I feel like a complete moron.

The rest of our lunch goes by with stories of Jake and the Robert's kids as well as a few tidbits about the Navy, Marine Corps and the usual type of things us military folk like to chat about. "Well, I have to get going. I have a flight back to San Diego at six." He comes around to Mac side and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "I want pictures and if you ever get out to California, the two of you are welcome to stay at my house."

"Thank you." I take his hand and shake firmly.

John pulls me close to him. "Remember, take care of her."

"You have my word on that, sir." With that, he disappears and my stomach goes back to normal. I feel like I've challenged the gauntlet and survived. I feel a tug on my hand and settle back down next to my wife. "It was nice to see him."

"You were jealous." She accuses with a silly grin.

I was going to deny it, but she would have seen past my charade anyway. "I was. But, I'm not any longer."

"Mmm. . .What made you change your mind?" She asks, her lips curling up to a smile.

I shrug. "I decided to take the road not taken and you decided to head down that road with me. . . and you love me. . .I can't ask for more." Despite our uniforms and this very public setting, I lean forward and capture her lips with mine. "I love you, Sarah."


	8. I do, again

**Here's the next part of The Fine Art of Marriage. When I get around to it, the next parts are gonna be fun... a lot of fun. :) I hope.**

**As Differet As Night and Day is still being finished, I have everything but the "interesting" bits of the last chapter to do and then it will get posted. I want to post them back to back with only a day or two inbetween. Which is why there's been a delay life gets in the way. A lot really. Or maybe I like to complicate my own life... yup, that I do.**

**Blame the boss as well... lately it seems like I have 12-14 hours of work to do... pffft!**

**Anyhoo... here's the Second Wedding. Not too sure if I totaly love this chapter or not, but it's the best I could do... The next part will be fun and you guys will LOVE their honeymoon.**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Part 8 – I do, again.**

"Really, dear. There's no reason to be nervous." I hear Trish tell me as she hands over a small, paper bag which I proceed to place over my mouth and nose. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm my erratic nerves and prevent myself from hyperventilating.

Too late, I'm already past the point of hyperventilating and going towards the realm of unconsciousness.

"You two _did_ do this once before, correct?" Harriet asks with a disbelieving tone. Alright, so my current predicament isn't common with women who are marrying the man that they are already married to.

"Yes." I hiss out and then quickly clamp the bag back over my mouth and proceed with another series of breaths. I forgot why this is supposed to work. Something to do with the carbon monoxide. . .No, not carbon monoxide! If I were breathing _that_ I'd be dead by now. Carbon dioxide?

Yes, that's it!

Harriet is giving me a funny look as she sits across from me in her matron-of-honor dress that makes her look absolutely stunning. I bet Bud nearly passed out when he saw her. My dear friends have set up a blueprint of sorts as to what I want my life with Harm to be like. Of course, I'll take one kid to Harriet's four, but I really want what they have – that perfect marriage able to withstand the bumps on the road. "What is it?"

I must be giving her a strange expression to cause that concerned tone in her voice. I shrug and lower down the bag. "I was thinking about you and Bud."

"You mean about how good we are together and how perfect our marriage is?" She rolls her eyes and then drags the chair she's sitting in towards me, stopping just a foot away. "Do you honestly think that you and Harm will have anything less?"

At this point, I am not sure. No, I am not insecure about Harm, I know his heart's in it. But, I tend to have this rotten luck with men and always seem to drive them away or kill them, as he pointed out once. "What if I hurt him?"

Harriet throws her hands up in exasperation and then rattles off to no one in particular, "You would think you two haven't done this before. . .Mac, you are _already_ married." I see that evil glint in her eyes and recall just a few weeks ago when she nearly attacked me over the news. "Which means you already went through this _so…_" Her saccharine sweet smile gives me chills from time to time. Right now, it's just freaking me out. "Get your ass out of that chair and down that aisle and to that handsome sailor that you already call your husband."

I raise a brow at her tone and am about to interject that she's being insubordinate to a _senior_ officer when she pins me with a glare that dares me to argue. "Y-yes ma'am." The woman should have been a Marine drill instructor.

"I mean it, Mac. .. You're a _Marine_. Storm the beaches!" With that, she brings me up to my feet and nods towards Trish who seems to have found that whole encounter utterly entertaining.

Between the two women the task of getting me into the dress is effortless. It's a gorgeous outfit, just a little more sexy than that of the first wedding but with the simplicity that I tend to gravitate towards. It pales in comparison to the dress I'd picked out for my failed wedding to Mic. That one, while beautiful was more traditional, something that I can't say Harm and I are. Sure, we have some traditions but, we tend to make our own way.

Anyway, this dress is sexy but in a classy way – an off-white, chiffon dress with a lace up back through crystal rings that then falls down to make a thin, very slight train. The front is a partial 'v'. It makes me curious as to what my husband-to-be-again is wearing. I very much doubt that he's dusted off the dress whites for this wedding. Then again, Harm might just surprise me with the arch of swords and everything. No doubt Bud and Sturgis are dying to swack my behind and welcome me to the 'Navy.' I huff at the thought. As if! _Harm_ should be the one getting swacked and welcomed into the Marines. As I recall, he does wear a Gunny's uniform rather well.

"Thank God you work out, Sarah." Trish says as she does the once over. "I think if you gained a pound you wouldn't fit into that thing." I chuckle in response and ignore the wicked thoughts going through my head of just how much of a 'work out' Harm and I give each other.

Almost _ten years_ of waiting and a lot of unresolved sexual tension will do that to people. Okay, so maybe we are just really hot for each other? All I know is that I can barely keep my hands off of him half of the time. The other half, well, I restrain myself. Barely.

The door opens and Mattie steps in wearing the light blue gowns that the girls in the wedding party have on. "Are you ready yet? Harm's starting to have a cow. . .Wow, Mac." She eyes me appreciatively and grins. "Harm's gonna drool."

Teenagers, gotta love em. "You think so?" I raise my arms akimbo and turn around once.

Mattie nods. "Oh yeah, betcha he won't be able to keep his hands off of you tonight."

Trish does a few final touches to the dress and then states, "Alright, dear. Ready to go."

Ten minutes later I am standing outside, just out of sight and waiting for a string quartet to start the Wedding March. At six pm, the sun is still shining overhead, giving just enough light for the ceremony and casting an ethereal glow over the water. My heart gives a strange little lurch and the reality of it all starts to sink in. I've married Harm before, but this is different. This is _real_. Not that the other wedding wasn't, but this is before our friends and family – the witnesses to the ups and downs that has been our relationship.

"Ready, Mac?"

I stare up at the man that was supposed to give me away once before. Harm and I recently learned that AJ Chegwidden had long been pushing for us to 'figure it out,' as he put it. He was more than pleased to accept this task and pretty pissed off that he wasn't in Vegas for the first one. "Yes, sir."

AJ gives me a pointed glare. "It's AJ, Sarah." Somehow, I don't think that Harm and I will ever be able to call him AJ. As the Wedding March starts up and we head down the path towards the guests, I notice that Chegwidden, as well as the other men, are wearing dress whites.

As we make the turn to head down the aisle I spot my husband, also in his dress whites that almost seem to gleam in the late afternoon light. I catch my breath at the sight.

I bite my lower lip as we pass between the guests, spotting friends that we haven't seen in years. Even Clay has managed to make it with his new, Barbie doll with a bad tan, trophy girlfriend and his mother, who seems rather pleased with my current arrangement. She never liked the idea of us together and, this time, I have to say 'mother knows best.' Then there is Gunny and his wife Caroline. Yes, as in Caroline Imes who he managed to meet during an OP with the CIA. Seems like the agency really _is_ using JAG as it's recruiting pool.

When I finally arrive, Harm's grinning at me with that 'cat that ate the canary' look. He eagerly takes my hand and stares at me for a few seconds before whispering. "Is it possible that you look more gorgeous today than you did in Vegas?" Hmmm, I was thinking the same thing.

Most of the ceremony disappears in the background as Harm and I look at each other. His eyes are shining brighter than ever and a look of admiration and love is present. God, we should have done this from the beginning. The energy between the two of us and the group of people present truly makes this the most awesome experience.

Chaplain Turner clears his throat and it's that moment that Harm and I seem to realize that we may need to say a word or two to complete our nuptials. "Do you Sarah take Harmon to be your wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do, _again._" I say and receive a chuckle from the guests and the Chaplain himself.

"Do you Harmon, take Sarah to be you wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live."

"I do." His smile is so gorgeous, so radiant and so damned contagious. Harm seems so pleased at this turn of events. I would have pushed for this from the get go just to see the light in his eyes.

We exchange rings and I feel the little butterflies in my stomach as the service begins to wrap up. This time, when we kiss, it will be in front of everyone who we care for. In front of the people that matter and those who've wanted us to succeed probably more than Harm and I have. This time it will mean so much more than just the signing of a paper or the exchanging of the rings. "I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the. . ."

Chaplain Turner barely has a chance to finish as our lips lock in a very anticipated kiss. Harm holds me tight against him and we kiss rather deeply. When we come up for air, I am mildly thankful that we aren't in a chapel or a church. That kind of kiss would have been a bit too enthusiastic for that type of setting. With my fingers I brush the lipstick off of Harm's lips.

Before we get a chance to proceed down the aisle, the arch of swords appears almost out of nowhere. I groan at the whack that I know is coming and turn to my husband who is grinning at me with an almost perverse pleasure. "Welcome to the Navy." He says with a wink and then urges us forward.

Sturgis does the honors with a "Go navy!" And it's then that I spot Gunny and Cresswell standing at the end, swords held at the ready. With a "Semper Fi" from the General, Harm is welcomed into the Corps.

"I am resisting the urge to rub my butt in public." He says as he eyes me suspiciously.

I hope he doesn't think that it was _my_ idea. I mean, I did entertain ideas of him getting whacked however, it was only an idea and not one that was verbalized. "Hey, this wasn't my idea. Unlike you, husband, I am not so devious."

Stepping into the hall, I catch my breath at how beautiful everything looks. Right by the entrance, there's this huge picture of Harm and I taken back in Vegas on the bridge at the Venetian hotel. I wasn't aware that we'd distributed the picture, but it's obvious that Jacques, our wedding planner, still got a hold on it. "Jacques is a genius."

As if on queue, the man shows up in a bright, pink tuxedo that just doesn't look that stylish on a guy that's shaped like a linebacker. "Aye!! Joo two look soooo beautiful!" He crushes us against him, hugging us both so tightly that it almost seemed as if my dress were to pop from the strain. "Tanjoo… Tanjoo for chooosin mee!" Almost as quickly as he's swooped on us, Jacques swoops away and heads off to harass his assistant.

We don't settle in too long before Trish calls us out to the floor for the ceremonial first dance as husband and wife – a privilege that we deprived ourselves of in Vegas. Oh, we danced in Vegas, but _that_ kind of dancing requires a bed and a whole lot of privacy.

The opening notes of "Could I have this kiss forever" start up and Harm and I immediately start to laugh in memory of a minor argument over songs. He pulls me close to him and I hear the continuing rumble of laughter from his chest. "I wonder how many people nearly divorced over music?"

I pull back and glance up at him with a raised brow. "Oh please, cut the melodrama, Harm." We were no where near divorce. "You _were_ sooo close to sleeping on the couch though." Seriously, who argues over wedding day music? Then again, we probably aren't the first or the last couple to pick such a thing to fight about. It was only after putting on the radio that I heard this particular song and we mutually agreed that it would be it.

"The make up sex was great though." Typical male, course, he's thinking about the sex. He pulls me almost flush against his body and it makes me think of highschool dances and the teachers that try so hard to keep space between the boys and the girls during slow dances.

I place my hands on the back of Harm's head and lower him down for a kiss which gets us a few applauses from the guests. "Hmmm, guess they approve."

"Even Webb was wiping a tear during the ceremony." Harm informs me and shakes his head almost in disbelief. "He doesn't know what he lost."

Oh, Webb knows and it's not so much that he lost me as it was that I walked away from him and towards my destiny – our destiny.

"I love you, Harm." I whisper into his ear as the song comes to an end and I hear him reply in kind, "And I love you, Sarah. . .So very much."

After the cake and all of the traditional wedding stuff, including the whole garter and flower thing, Trish and Frank approach us with a rather large white envelope. "We weren't quite sure what to give the two of you until Trish told me that you hadn't settled on a Honeymoon as of yet."

Truth be told, we didn't even have a real honeymoon after the first wedding. Sure, we had fun in Vegas for a couple of days, but work was still looming over our heads. The thought of a true Honeymoon where we don't have to worry about a single thing but Harm and I, that sounds lovely.

"I had a talk with that General of yours, who's a charming man, I have to say." I hear Harm groan beside me as his mother proceeds to tell us about the lovely conversation that they had about paintings, of all things. Who knew that the General was into the arts? "And he's given you two weeks off so long as you can find a way to resolve the. . Garisson case?"

"Garetty." Harm and I say at the same time, which makes me groan. That case has been nothing but a royal pain in the ass. Have a client that lies to you about _everything_ and see how wonderful it is to get him out of a sling. Harm and I have tried, but our fancy footwork isn't doing much and we still haven't gone to trial yet. "Well, now we have a motivating factor into getting the case rolling."

Frank hands Harm the envelope. "I am not sure if you'll like the destination. If you don't, Trish and I will take those tickets and we'll find something else for the two of you."

Harm stares at the envelope as if something is going to jump out and bite him. "Honey, rip the sucker open already." My impatience has gotten the best of me and it's all I can do before I grab the envelope and rip it open.

With a hesitant breath, he rips one corner and slides the papers out. A bright and shiny, green blue brochure pokes out and I see a very distinct name. "Fiji?"

"We're going to Fiji for _two_ weeks?" Harm stares at the brochure with the same wonder that I am feeling. Christ, and they thought we wouldn't want to go? "Wow."

I snatch a brochure away from him and stare at amazement at the Villa that Trish and Frank picked out for us. I couldn't see too much, but the fact that it has an outdoor day bed and our own, private pool. . . "Is that where we're going to stay?"

Trish nods enthusiastically. "Frank and I stayed there last year when we decided to renew our vows. The Villa is absolutely prefect. I've kept it in mind for you and Harm. . You're going to love it Sarah."

One thing I will never argue with is Trish's tastes, which are impeccable. "Wow, thank you. Thank you so much."

Frank wraps his arms around me and gives me a tight bear hug. "Thank you, Sarah. You've made our son a happy man. There's nothing more important to us than his happiness, and yours. . .Welcome to the family."

Family. It's been the one part of life that has eluded me for so long. I've tried to capture it so many times only to find myself falling short of my dreams. This time, I have the right man, the right shoes, the right career and a family that ties it all together. "Welcome to the family, Mac." Harm says in a soft voice and then presses his lips to mine.

God, I can't wait for the honeymoon to begin. Fiji here we come!

. . .er… Eventually.


	9. Tropical Trouble pt 1

Hey gang! Always said I would continue this one for a while. this chapter, for some reason, was difficult to write. Now, the place that they are staying at DOES exsist I just suck at describing places. ;) God forbid me ever have to talk to a sketch artist. ;)

Anyway... you can find the place at - fijiresort(dot)com - accomodations - The Villa. ;)

Enjoy!

Jackie

**Chapter 9 – Tropical Trouble pt 1.**

Mac sits next to me in this tiny little coffin of a seaplane that I barely fit into. Glancing out of the window I look down at the crystal blue waters that are cut off by an island full of palm trees. Between the trees I spot the hotel rooms which are made up of several huts sprinkled throughout the area. At least, I think of them as huts, according to the resort information, they are called 'bures.'

"How is it that you are comfortable in this little plane, but you aren't comfortable going up in 'Sarah'?" Mac levels me with a look that could kill. At one point, she had actually shared interest in learning to fly the biplane. In my excitement, I didn't take into account the weather nor the fact that we'd have to land, in the middle of nowhere and spend two hours huddled under the wing of the plane until the storm passed. "You know, better not answer that."

"Harm, let's face it, you, me and any plane that you're piloting . . .not a good mix." She says and pats my hand sympathetically.

She wraps her hand around mine and tightens the hold as our pilot does a flyby and then turns the plane back around to land in the ocean. "You will enjoy Cousteau. It's a beautiful spot." He says in a rich accent as he helps Mac out of the plane first and they assist me with our luggage. "Fiji is a place of magic."

Somehow, I think that Mac and I will be able to make our own magic without any help. "I don't doubt it." I say and turn to find my wife halfway down the dock, that smile of hers as captivating as ever.

We head past the resort's lagoons and walk up a curves stone walkway. My jaw drops suddenly, my eyes scatter trying to take in everything at once. Mac's hand wraps around my bicep and she squeezes. "Tell me this is real." She says in disbelief.

Stepping past double doors, the Villa breaks up between huts and opened spaces. "Wow."

Our bellhop chuckles and tugs our suitcases inside, letting them rest near the doors. "Yes, that is a typical response . . .I'll leave you to explore, there's lots to see."

Reaching in my pockets, I pull out a hefty tip and present it to the man. "Thanks." I turn to find Mac stepping slowly to the deck, almost as if waiting for all of it to suddenly disappear.

Directly in front of us is one of those infinity pools and an open air hut with, what appears to be, a day bed. Adjacent to the day bed is an elevated deck with two lounge chairs. To our right is another hut, walking inside I find a few seats and a sofa next to which is a small kitchen and a door that probably leads to a bathroom. "Is this the bedroom?" Mac asks, giving the sofa a dubious look. "Or is the bedroom that open air thing?"

"I don't know. . .there's that other hut though." I motion to our left and Mac eagerly tugs me to that general vicinity. This hut, is by far, the biggest, with stone steps that lead down to a stone Jacuzzi. The same stones crawl up the walls to a massive, open shower just a few feet away from the Jacuzzi.

The stones lead a path upwards and Mac tugs me along until we stop at the top, where the bedroom is. "Okay, now _this_ is a bedroom." Polished wooden floors, disappear beneath a four-poster canopy bed. Fabric is draped from the posts. "I'm gonna go get our things." I disappeared from the room for a few seconds and in that time, Mac has shed all her clothing, I note as I find scraps of material trailing down the steps to the bedroom and towards the Jacuzzi. That was quick.

"You're way too overdressed for our honeymoon, sailor." There are some flowers floating in the water, covering up certain. . .parts. I gulp and stare down watching a sexy grin spread on her lips.

Damn.

Dear God, when Mac wants to play seductress. "Ah. . .uh. . ." Damnit, I sound like an idiot but she plays this roll so damned well it leaves me tongue tied. Grinning, I strip down and then carefully lower myself into the rock Jacuzzi and yelp as I descend in to boiling, hot water.

Mac giggles and raises a brow in amusement. "It's not that hot! Suck it up, flyboy!" She slides onto my lap, nestling her body against mine as her mouth fastens on to my own. Her fingers rake lightly through my hair and I moan against her lips as she moves to straddle me. "I love you." Mac whispers and my heart skips a beat at the tone of her voice against my ear.

Later. . .much later, when our skin had turned to prune and my body felt like collapsing from wonderful exhaustion, we manage to make it out of the Jacuzzi and to the shower, without incident. Mac stayed behind, showering the last of the shampoo out of her hair as I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed to the bedroom.

Once there, I remove my wedding ring and use the tip of the towel to dry it off when it falls to the floor. "Shit!" As I reach down to grab the little circle, it beings to roll out of it's own volition across the room. I race after it only to stop suddenly as it slips under the bed. "Great!" With a huff, I hunker down next to the bed and peak beneath it to find the ring swirling round and round and round this certain spot right in the middle. "That's odd."

"What are you doing under the bed?" I hear Mac say as her feet shuffle to the other side. "You know what, I don't wanna know."

"I think I found something." I grab my ring, stopping it from spinning around the area. My fingers then reach out feeling around for something that could have caused such an odd response from a ring. A second later, I press down on the wood and feel it give way.

On the other side, I see Mac lay down prone and peer at me with a grin. "Okay, so I'm curious. . .what did you find?"

"Dunno." I reached into the hole, hand circling around until I bump into something that feels rather soft. Tugging it upwards I bring up an old world leather envelope wrapped around with some sort of rope to hold it shut. "Okaaay." Mac and I stare at each other from under the bed and then immediately snap up.

We each take a seat at the foot of the bed as I unwrap the rope carefully and the envelope opens up on the bed between us. A wrinkled piece of parchment paper covers the center and to the sides, attached on two pieces of rope is a gold doubloon.

"This looks like. . ." Mac begins and catches herself before she says the same thing that is coming to my mind. "Treasure?"

"Oh, C'mon Mac, treasure?. . .This is probably some tourist trap." Some hotels have a habit of inventing things to make their patron's stay much more enjoyable – ghosts that don't exist, staff dressing up in period dress – tourist traps.

"It isn't like this was easy to find. . .How did you find it anyway?"

"I was drying my wedding ring, it fell rolled under." I stare up at her, dubious look on my face but Mac's expression is truly one of joy. She's doing that cute, half smile, half grin like she's enjoying this situation and the possibility of a treasure hunt. "You think that this might lead us to a treasure?" She shrugs, trying miserably to brush it off. But I know her better. "Alright, you think it's a treasure hunt and then we'll go on a treasure hunt."

"I didn't say anything. . .It's just that someone obviously took great care to hide this in the Villa. . .Don't tell me it doesn't make you curious!"

She has a point there. "Tomorrow we'll take a look around. . .but tonight. . ." I waggle my eyebrows suggestively at her and then reach across to run my fingers over her arm. "I wanna see how soft the mattress is."

"Somehow, I don't think it matters." She was right, of course. It didn't matter.


	10. Tropical Trouble pt 2

Been a while, I know! This story has been forgotten, sadly. I'll try to work it out more. This used to be my muse. LOL!! Anyway, thanks everyone who reviewed Vampire Heart, I'll be replying to you soon! I'm working on a big story again, this one taking place during "The Stalker" episode. Harm and Mac have to hide when they can't find who's after Mac. Basically, any reason to have them alone and relying on eachother, ya know? ;)

So enjoy this one, don't forget to read the earlier chapters to catch up. :)

Jackie.

**Chapter 10 – Tropical Trouble pt 2**

"Ah, this is the life." I hear a content tone from my husband as he stretches out lazily on our matching lounge chairs. Mmmm. We're definitely going to need to do this more often. I find that I rather like seeing Harm shirtless in only his swim trunks. Not to mention my enjoyment at having to rub his body down with sun block, a messy job, but enjoyable nonetheless.

I lower down my sunglasses to take an unobstructed look and sigh contentedly as he settles in comfortably. There was a time when these moments were practically gone. The ease that we'd shared at the induction of our relationship disappeared through years of confusion and silly mistakes. Thankfully it was remedied and I've never been happier in my life. "Mmmm. . .these little umbrella drinks are good." I state, taking a sip of a virgin pina colada.

Harm grunts as an answer and I can't help but laugh. He can be such a baby sometimes. "Sometimes I think that you like torturing me."

It wasn't torture, I just decided that this morning would be better spent sunbathing. Harm _assumed_ I would rather spend the day in bed. "It was not torture, just a difference of opinion." Not that spending the day in bed was a bad idea, per se, but I was really curious about the map thing which required an outdoor kinda day but my partner seems to be less than enthused. "Besides, I'm sure we'll spend _many_ mornings in bed together."

"Yes, but. . ." I find that pitiful, puppy dog expression that sometimes gets him anything he wants. Sometimes - and this isn't one of those times. ". . .this was the _first_ morning of _our_ honeymoon."

Never mind that we didn't get out of bed since getting here. My back was already starting to hurt. "It is and, according to the concierge it may rain for the rest of the week so this may very well be the last time you see me in a bikini."

Ah, that has him instantly perking up with concern. "Ever?"

"Well, on this trip. . .Cold rain and bathing suits don't mix." I shiver at the thought and finish off my little umbrella drink. "So. . .When are we going treasure hunting?" I was going to let it go, really I was but, it was Harm who brought it up somewhere around four am when we were still awake.

Harm sits up in the lounger. "We _really_ gonna do this? . . .because I was taking a look at the map again and, I think we need to start digging."

Digging? Now we're talking! "Where at?"

"The beach, just outside of the Villa. . .At least, that's what it looks like. . ." To my surprise, he produces the map and kneels next to me. "See. . .Assuming this spot here is the Villa, then we need to start digging out there." He points to a spot on the map and then motions towards our private little beach about fifty feet away from the Villa.

I take a look at the map just to make sure I was searching in the right direction. To my dismay, I find that we're staring at, "Water? We have to dig underwater?"

Harm looks at me and sighs. "Yeah, that's what I figure."

"Well, the main office _does_ rent out SCUBA gear." I point out, trying to smile as sweetly as possible.

As luck would have it, the hotel set us up with two SCUBA sets. We were told that guests didn't usually rent those items without supervision and were nearly forced to take a tour guide along when Harm smiled. I don't think he realizes just what kind of an effect his pearly whites have on the opposite sex. The girl at reception quickly changed her mind and even had a bellboy bring the equipment to the Villa.

"Mac, you have that on backwards." Harm points out as we stand on the beach trying to get our equipment on. I know I have my gear on backwards, the damned tank was jabbing me in the ribs and I don't really think that's proper SCUBA technique. "You need to turn that over. . .Here, let me help." He adjusts the weight belt and turns the tank around, pulling the straps over my shoulder. "You got the map?"

"Yup." I nod and then fish out a large, sealable plastic bag which I used to store the map. "I taped the hell out of all sides so it should be pretty water proof."

He nods in approval and then turns to face the ocean. "This SCUBA thing, there is nothing to it really." And if he starts to explain the parts of the regulator one more time I will kill him. "You got it right?"

Rather than answer, I leave him there and start my duck waddle walk into the water. Honestly, how else are you supposed to walk with flippers on? The weights keep us from floating as we inch our way forward, counting each step that we take. Pristine, clear waters allow us to see the fish bellow, curiously swimming up to us. It's when the water hits my neck that Harm decides to take the plunge.

Entering a new world, we're assaulted by a roar of silence and the occasional sound of our regulators as we breathe. I follow behind Harm who is gracefully swimming as if he were part of God's sea creatures. He heads towards a dark spot on the ocean floor and motions for me to follow.

It can't be _this_ easy, can it? I wonder as he lands above the dark spot and starts to brush sand away with his hand. It's not exactly an 'X' but it's not exactly well hidden either. As the sand gives way I see an old barrel, sliced in half with jagged edges that look too dull to cut anything. Harm moves around the barrel and digs his finger beneath it only to come up with a rope.

Surprised, I swim to his side and watch as he tugs on the rope, finding it tightly strung across the ocean floor and towards the reef nearby. He motions for me to follow as he takes hold of the rope and uses it to pull him towards its source. The line leads us to a huge chunk of coral, big enough to fit a small water craft. He heads inside and I follow only to stop where the rope ends, tied around the other half of the barrel. From within, Harm pulls out a wooden box, secured with a lock that seemed to have come from the late 1800s. He tries to pull it open but all efforts lead to nothing.

Like a football player holding the ball, he tucks it safely between his arm and torso then motions me to follow him back out. I'm giddy, excited and fascinated at what the contents of the box could possibly hold. I'm so caught in the moment that I don't notice when Harm stops abruptly, causing me to bang into him.

He turns to me and I barely register a look of panic on his face before he grabs my hand and pulls me fully out of the reef. Rather than take our roped route back to the initial starting point, he goes a different direction, kicking his fins as hard as possible. I do the same and try to help propel us quicker as my confusion grows by the second. We swim through the reef and vegetation that are enough to critically injure anyone diving off of a vessel. He finally stops and pulls me behind another large chunk of rock.

It's then that I notice his concern as he points towards our previous location only to see a concussion in the water as someone dove in from a boat above. That someone soon turned into four someone's, two of which carried along a rifle of sorts. While I am not a diving expert, it was clear that the weapons were not the typical type of spear guns.

I breath slowly, hoping that the bubbles from the regulators are not detected. I have a sneaking suspicion that we weren't the only ones looking for buried treasure. In our hiding spot we wait watching as the four men emerge. Only there was something different about the fourth one. Perhaps it was the plume of blood seeping from his body and the limp way he was being dragged out of the reef.

Harm turns to look at me, concern still in his eyes as the weight of the matter settles on us.

Jesus Christ, what have we gotten ourselves into now?


	11. Tropical Trouble pt 3

Thanks for the reviews everyone! Yup, these two love trouble methinks. These series should be renamed "Things Harm and Mac would do if Jackie wrote for the show" LOL!!!

Anyway, there are a few parts to their honey moon and the treasure hunt story. :)

Enjoy!

Jackie

PS: All mistakes are mine.

**Tropical Trouble Part 3**

Though it was only thirty minutes something about the whole ordeal seemed to last for hours. The absolute worst part was when the boat drifted over our hiding place and stopped. I was sure we were dead then and our dreams of buried treasure had gotten us killed.

They left and we waited before surfacing and making the painstaking jaunt back to shore. We weren't too far away from the Villa but, far enough that lugging SCUBA equipment would prove a hassle.

"I guess we know what they were looking for." Mac says as we finally make it to the beach and rid ourselves of our burden. I'm still holding the box tightly to my side and am more than ever, wanting to run into the relative safety of the villa.

"What the hell kind of weapon were they carrying?"

She removes her flippers, holding them with two fingers as she pulls the SCUBA tank back over her shoulders, grunting as the weight presses down on her. "My guess would be an APS rifle. It's derived from an AK and basically shoots a dart-like projectile."

Knowledge just like that just tacks on another reason why I love this woman so much. "How the hell do you know these things?"

"I'm a Marine, Harm. . .Certain things just stick in my head." That and having a subscription to rifle and gun magazines, I bet. "You can one-up me on aero-dynamical doo-dads." She adds.

Doo-dads?! In light of our current situation, I will have to ignore that comment, for now. Though Mac is no expert, she knows more about aeronautical doo-dads than most. "Here." I shove the box at her and remove the SCUBA gear from her shoulders. "Go inside, stow it somewhere . . . I'm gonna go return these."

Mac raises a brow and stares, words seemingly a-miss in this situation. "Harm. . .That body down there."

"Can't do anything about it, Mac. . .We don't even know who they are." And if they're locals, I'm pretty sure that they don't like tourists going around stealing their treasure.

I return the SCUBA gear without incident and return to hear an odd grunting sound coming from inside of the Villa. I know it's Mac, that much I can tell but, if there's someone else I wouldn't know. Worried, I press myself against the wall and slowly crawl to the bedroom where I find Mac standing on the box, her hands wrapped around the lock which she's pulling for dear life. Her backside is up in the air and I take a moment to pause and enjoy the view until she spots me.

Her eyes practically dig into me as she straightens and then hops off the box. "Rather than staring at my ass you could help."

"I could but, the view was too nice to pass up." I say cheekily before coming to her aid. I take a seat next to the box and give a tug at the lock.

Mac gives me an indignant looks that would wipe the macho away from most men. "You _can't_ muscle that open."

"That's why I _borrowed_ this." I wave a long, flat head, screw driver in the air and then slide it between the shackle of the old lock. I begin twisting to the side hoping that the force will either break the old lock or the hasp it's attached to. "There better not be a piece of paper with _'better luck next time'_ written on it." I joke between grunts as I realize that the old metal is probably better constructed than anything we have on the market today.

"Maybe you should have had your spinach." She teases and jumps back when the hasp gives and breaks away from the ancient looking case. "Oooh." Mac takes a place next to me on the floor and we stare at each other - two giddy kids on Christmas - as I pull open the box. From inside I pull out a tarnished silver cross about half an inch thick and five inches long with various little holes punched through the metal. I hand it over to Mac who carefully examines it as I thoroughly look through the box. "This is beautiful just need to remove the tarnish. Anything else?" She asks expectantly.

I search through the box, moving around some of the sand that had settled into it. The grains slip through my fingers and there's nothing else I find. "That's it."

"That can't be _it_." Mac says, taking the box away and doing some searching of her own. She purses her lips as her fingers move alongside the walls of the box searching for a clue that I know we won't find. "Are we sure there was nothing else inside of that cave?"

"There wasn't that much space to hide cases and cases of treasure, Mac." With a huff, she pulls out the map and places it on the floor. "I don't think there's anything else there. Unless the 'X' was a rouse which means that there might be another map."

"What the?" She says suddenly and takes the cross, placing it over the map. I'm reminded slightly of the Goonies and varying other treasure seeking movies when some obscure object points the way towards the goods. "I think it might spell something."

I peer at the paper as Mac moves the cross to several sections none of which are putting together discernable words. I barely noticed the letters around the paper, they were hidden within the small pictures on the map. "No no, flip it the other way." I direct and Mac tries again still not finding anything of interest. "Look. . .Doesn't this sound like one of the other islands?"

T-A-V-E-U. "Taveuni? Could be, I mean, we'd have to ask the concierge." If that's the case it can't be that difficult to get to. As to where we go after we arrive on the island, I'm not too sure. A knock on the door has both Mac and I nearly jumping out of our skins. "Go get that I'll hide this."

She does as I shove the box into a closet and Mac stashes the map back into her bathing suit. I might have to ask her about that method or enjoying finding the hiding spot. "It's the bellhop." She says and then opens the door to find one of the island natives wearing their typical, floral shirts. "Hello."

"Hello." He smiles at her and hands over a piece of paper and a pen. "Mr. Rabb forgot to sign his receipt for the SCUBA gear."

I walk over and take the paper and pen away from Mac and sprawl my name on a tiny line at the bottom. "Is there an island called Taveuni?"

Michel - that's what his nametag says - nods and his smile widens. "Oh yes, Sir. Very easy to get to. Tourists love Taveuni – rainforests, waterfalls and it has a rich history about hidden treasure."

"Treasure?" Mac and I say in unison and then turn to each other in shock.

"Oh yes, many locals and treasure finders go to Taveuni searching for Spanish gold. And from time to time we find a piece or two. . .jewels, coins, pearls." He fills us in and then points inside to the Villa. "Some say that there is a secret in this hotel that will lead to the mother load."

Mac's mouth widens just a bit more, any second now and I can imagine her salivating. "In _this _hotel?"

Michel nods enthusiastically, obviously proud of their history. "It is said that when this hotel was built, one of the builders, James Dumas, had a secret and that secret was hidden inside this very villa."

"In here. . .wow. . ." I'm trying to act surprised and it's obviously working as Michel gets more enthused with his story.

"Yes, they say the secret was something that would point to the treasure. James died during construction. Some say his brother knew where to find the secret but was afraid of being killed."

"Killed?" Killed? My brain flashes back to the men in the ocean and the one that never made it out alive. I do believe they were after the treasure though, how they knew about the location has me at a loss.

"Yes, many say James was killed because of a map. . .some say it was natural causes. We don't know for sure. . . It may be lore but, it's lore that we believe. Anyway, if you would like to travel to Taveuni, just let the concierge know. We can arrange transportation for you." He takes the pen and receipt and then disappears out of the walkway and to a golf cart that is parked just outside of the villa.

"I guess we're going to Taveuni tomorrow?" I ask my wife and she doesn't need to answer, that mischievous grin is response enough.


	12. Tropical Trouble pt 4

**Ah, these two love trouble.... or... well... maybe I love finding trouble for them. To me, JAG lacked some adventure stories with Harm and Mac. I'm grateful for the ones that we did have, you gotta admit, it was fun to hear them bantering and trying to protect each other. So cute. ;)**

**So... rolling right along.... Mistakes are my own.**

**Enjoy, **

**Jackie  
**

**Tropical Trouble 4**

There's another knock on the door and I expect it to be Michel with information on travel to the island. Instead, two men and one woman, wearing dark slacks and blue shirts with sleeves rolled up stare back at me. There are badges over the left breast pockets and shoulder boards with marks that are not discernable to me. By a patch located on the sleeves, I gather that this is Fiji police. "Hello ma'am." A tall burly gentleman greets me with a soft smile. "I am corporal Bari and these are constable Timoci and sergeant Babitu." He points to the man first and the woman last. "The concierge sent us to speak to a Mr. Rabb?"

Harm quickly moves to my side. "I'm Harmon Rabb."

"The hotel said that you witnessed some sort of crime, sir?" The woman, Sergeant Babitu asks as she glances between the both of us probably thinking that, as tourists, we were mugged.

"My wife and I witnessed a murder." Harm says dryly and then places a hand on my shoulder. I had almost forgotten what we'd seen as thoughts of gold and jewels flashed before me. Now, I feel sad and very ashamed with myself. I don't take the loss of human life – necessary or not – lightly.

The three of them glance at each other and then back at Harm and I. Obviously these sorts of things are a rare occurrence if you account for the way the smiles on their faces disappeared. "Murder? May we come in?"

"Of course." The two of us step away from the door and lead the police to the sitting area, where a couple of sofas and arm chairs are neatly arranged.

Sergeant Babitu sits closest to us while the men stand on either side of the sofa, flanking her. I notice that she happens to have a different pin on her shoulder board, much more elaborate than her male counterparts. She whips out a small notepad and pen then address Harm first. "For the records, can you please state your names."

"Harmon Rabb Junior and this is my wife Sarah MacKenzie." The two men snicker and I am aware that they are not fond of a married woman using her maiden name. It is a rather taboo subject with many but, it was a decision made to prevent any unfair advantages with our professional lives. It's a page I took out of Harriet's handbook.

"The concierge never mentioned a murder. She only said that a guest required immediate police assistant." Babitu said, adding notes to her notepad.

"Just in case the criminal is tied to this resort, I didn't want to tip anyone off. Calling the authorities was the best bet."

Babitu frowns at his response and cocks her head slightly to the side. "Why would you think that someone from the resort is involved?"

"Harm and I are lawyers." I interject. "It's normal for us to make intuitive leaps." And with as many whodunits' as we've been involved with, addressing the authorities can be a good thing.

"Lawyers?" She doesn't seem to like that idea and I can't blame her – some authorities find that the law is a little too blind for their tastes.

"Military lawyers for the Judge Advocate General of the Navy." I add and notice her brow furl. At least some of the distaste seems to have lessened. "Harm is a Commander in the Navy and I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps."

"Oh." She says and then scribbles something else on her notepad. "That would by why neither of you seem too shocked over seeing a dead body." I'd hate to agree with her but, she's quite correct on her assumption. "So, what happened, exactly?"

"We decided to go diving and that's when we saw a boat headed towards us." Harm gives her an account which is much more thorough than anything I could have come up with. Although, everything is not full disclosure as he leaves out the bits about the doubloon and the map. "What did you say the rifle was called, Mac?"

"APS rifle. It's basically like an AK-47 that shoots darts. . .It was made specifically to be shot underwater by the Soviet Union. Firing the weapon out of the water will damage it." Unlike the AK, the APS is not all that pretty looking. It has an over sized polymer magazine and looks to be put together with cheap, thin pipes. The downside is that the rifle can hold 26 rounds and can be used as both single and full automatic fire.

At that, the three officers begin discussing something in a language I am not familiar with. They speak quickly, practically ignoring Harm and I as we sit there, staring at them. Finally, Babitu addresses us again. "It's funny that you mention the Soviet Union. Though it's not publicly known, in the past year or so, Fiji has had some trouble with Somali pirates ever since gold coins were found around this island. We've managed to capture one ship and found it stocked with Russian military weapons."

And just like that we've been thrust amidst pirates and treasure. Captain Jack Sparrow would be pleased. "So what now? Do we need to come down to the station?"

"No need for now. There is not much information to go by." She makes a few extra notes and then stands up to leave. "When are you leaving the islands?"

Harm and I too stand up and walk the small group to the door. "We're here for two weeks. Mac and I arrived just last night. I admit, we got caught up in the whole treasure business as well - we are headed to Taveuni tomorrow. If you need us to stay here we can postpone that trip."

The men step outside and one of them heads to their vehicle (a golf cart) while the other waits by the sergeant. "I don't see a need to postpone. If we need to get in touch with you we'll just leave a message with the concierge. Thank you for your time."

As they head out, I feel Harm step behind and wrap his arms around me. "Did anything about that interview struck you as odd?"

"Besides the fact that you didn't mention anything about the doubloon or the map? Yeah, Sergeant Babitu didn't seem all that interested in the murder. Which means that she's either covering it up or believes that we committed the crime." Neither concept is very appealing.

Once the trio is out of site, Harm releases me and closes the door. "Or they just don't have a clue how to handle this without creating a lot of fuss for the resort." He sighs deeply and shakes his head. "We can go home, you know? The last thing we need is any of this."

"We can." But, I don't want to and I don't believe that Harm does either. For one, I would like to see about the murder investigation, for another, the prospect of treasure is terribly tempting. "How about an early dinner?" I suggest instead.

About an hour later, Harm and I step into the gorgeous restaurant which overlooks the ocean. According to the brochure, it boasts a 60 foot high, temple styled roof and real wooden floors. Everything about the resort is purely island inspired from the palm trees, thatched ceilings and bamboo décor to the cute, tropical themed shirts that the staff wears.

"Mr. And Mrs. Rabb? This way please." The seating host escorts us to a table for two situated right next to the glass windows where we have a beautiful view of the ocean. He hands us menus and points out the wine list. I order a virgin strawberry daiquiri and Harm a beer.

"You know, you _can_ order hard liquor if you want to. I'm not going to suddenly go on a drinking binge if you have anything stronger than a beer." Ever since we got together, he's been cautious about his drinking habits. If we're alone, he doesn't have more than a beer or two but, when in a group he gets a bit more adventurous and orders a single malt scotch or bourbon.

Harm smiles and reaches across the table to take my hand. "I know, Mac. Honestly, I just wanted some suds." Our drinks arrive a few seconds later and he spies my icy, red beverage. "You girls and your chic drinks." Says the man who had downed two or three umbrella drinks earlier.

Dinner was pleasant and I'm surprised that we can actually find things to talk about that don't revolve around a) work, b) flying or c) the treasure. It seems like every time that we get a chance to be alone we find out more things about each other, like the reason why he knows how to pick locks. "Misguided youth?" I ask as my lips curve up in a mischievous smile.

"Yup. When mom married Frank I did everything and anything to get in trouble. When I was fourteen, I met this kid named Johnny. He used to make fun of me all of the time because Frank was rich. So, one day, we got into a fight and I beat him into a pulp. From that time on we became buddies. He taught me how to pick locks and I gave him money whenever he was in a jam. . .Then he got caught stealing cold medicine from a pharmacy in La Jolla and went to Juvie. . Ten years ago I bumped into him – he'd wound up joining the Army and became a recruiter." He shakes his head and takes a breath. "Funny how things turn out."

Funny indeed. Had I not gone through my own brushes with the law, I probably never would have met Harm. I guess that's one positive thing that came from my teenage drinking binges. Suddenly, I feel his hand on mine, grasping a little too tight for my liking. "Uh, Harm? That hurts."

He releases a little and leans in. "Sorry but some guys at the bar keep looking this way. Just want to make sure they know you're not available, at all, in any shape or form." Ah, that green little monster loves to show itself from time to time.

Wanting to know who my hubby is talking about, I do my best not give myself away by taking my empty glass of daiquiri and waving it around, seemingly searching for our waiter. I spot the guys, three of them, but can't really get a good look as they are sitting in the shadows. "Why are they staring at us?"

"Maybe they're just staring at you." He says with a low, sultry voice. "That dress and the strappy sandals are _very _sexy." Harm would know, the sarong style, light yellow dress was his purchase and a rather nice one, I might add. The fabric is nice and airy, perfect for tropical weather.

"Maybe. . .oh no." I hold my breath and turn back to Harm, trying to plaster a smile as big as I can muster. "You did hide the treasure box, right?"

Harm nods. "Yeah, dug up some sand by the entry to the pool and stuck it there. I put the map and the doubloon inside the box . .Why?"

"Because I have a sneaking suspicion that the murderers are the three men looking this way." Which means that either they spotted us coming out of the ocean or someone from the Fijian police is in on it.


	13. Tropical Trouble pt 5

**I never thought that their honeymoon would turn into such an adventure but, it's been fun... will Harm and Mac find treasure? And what about the murder?....**

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Tropical Trouble 5**

"I don't want to see another chocolate cake for quite a while." Mac says, referring to last night's four hour dinner, as we stand at the airport, waiting for the plane ride to Taveuni. "Even the chocolate pancakes at breakfast were making me nauseous."

Four hours, that is approximately how long the men remained at the bar, downing drink after drink in a joyous fashion. So, we decided to stall by ordering desert – four deserts – two for me and two for Mac. It normally wouldn't be a problem – the chocolate cakes were absolutely decadent – but, they were also _very_ large slices. Coupled with a hearty dinner, drinks and coffee my stomach's salvation relied on the Alka Seltzer that Mac brought from home. "You love chocolate pancakes."

"_Loved."_ She corrects with look of disgust which I'm sure will dissipate as time goes on. Mac rarely falls out of love with food, especially when it comes down to chocolate. "I really hope that's not the plane." Mac points at a white plane heads down the tarmac and towards our general vicinity.

Spotting the words "Sun Air" on the side, I can't help but groan as I realize that this twenty minute trip will probably be one of the worst of my life. As much as we complain about the conditions of military flights, there is nothing worse than being a passenger in a small, hot and cramped aircraft. Similar to the Bahamian flights that I'm accustomed to after three years of living in the Caribbean with mom and Frank, it's likely to only provide "room" for eight passengers, in a two-by-two configuration.

I sigh, hoping that the pilot is not in the mood for sight seeing. Sometimes I really wish I wasn't so freakishly tall. Mercifully, the crew ushers everyone in, leaving Mac and I to be the last to board and the ones to sit up close and personal with the two man flight crew giving me an inch of leg room. Not that it does much good, had there been an inch or two less, my knees could have served as a backrest for the co-pilot. "This makes your plane seem like a C-130." She whispers and I chuckle.

Her hand slips into mine and squeezes painfully as the plane hurries down the tarmac and lifts up into the air. Minutes later, the pilot's voice comes through the headset, which all passengers were issued, stating touristy facts and figures. He deems us 'lucky' to be traveling with such good weather as it usually rains in Taveuni.

Although uncomfortable, the views of the ocean and islands are absolutely stunning. Blue green waters seem to break off against sandbars and coral reefs – a divers Mecca. Before long, Mac settles into the flight and uses her camera to snap several shots of the beauty below.

The flight is over five minutes later than promised and we step out onto the gravel landing strip and follow the rest of our flight companions through the tiny building that makes up Matei airport. "What now?" I ask, knowing very well that Mac had studied the treasure map for most of the evening.

"We hop on a tour buses to Bouma National Park." She says as if she's traveled the Fijian islands on a regular basis. "Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

Mac raises a brow, clearly annoyed. "Like I've lost my mind. . .While you nodded off last night, I was looking at maps and tourist brochures."

"Tourist brochures? Are you kidding me?" I snort and her incredulity. "You expect to find the stuff" – we'd started calling the treasure 'stuff' in hopes of not alerting anyone to our endeavor – "with a tourist brochure?"

Her annoyance only rises as she pulls out a colorful, tri-folded paper with photographs of waterfalls. "The map uses the word 'cascade' more than once. . .Bouma is known for the Tavoro waterfalls which are the most famous in Fiji." She rattles off the information as a certified tour guide would.

"_Cascade_ is another word for waterfall." I recall and decide to stop finding flaws in her logic as we step onto the tour bus headed towards Bouma.

Forty minutes later, we arrive at the park and gawk at the tropical beauty before us - tall and strong palm trees amongst lush, green shrubbery and ferns. We pay a small fee and opt to follow a guide for a ten minute hike on a path to the most famous waterfall in Fiji. The trek is easy and very rewarding as we come upon the pool where the grand waterfall spills into. It's alive with both tourists and locals which use it as a natural swimming pool.

I'm tempted to jump in until Mac taps me on the shoulder and ushers me away from the buzz. I follow her on a trail that leads past the bustling lower falls and upwards. "Where are we going?"

Mac stops and turns to me, waving the map in her hand. "We're not going to get anywhere if we stay on the tour."

All work and no play? "I was kinda hoping to take a dip at some point." She ignores my plight with a chuckle and continues onward.

"We will but, let's try to figure this out first." She stops for a moment and looks around to make sure no one else is within earshot. To be honest, I haven't really been able to make heads or tails of the map. I'm not sure how much of it has to do with my poor linguistic skills or a lack of commitment on my part. All I know is that, after our brush with death, the whole treasure seeking thing is giving me a bad feeling. Besides the unmistakable information that led us to the chest, there's no other clear indication and 'X' is certainly _not_ marking any spots. "There." Mac points at a large rock which she uses to place the map on top of while she digs out the silver cross.

I turn my back to her and glance around as I hear people talking in the distance. "Are you sure about that cross thing?"

"It spelled out _Taveuni_ and _cascade_ didn't it?" Okay, there's that.

"How do you know the lower falls isn't the one it's pointing to?"

Mac sighs. "I don't but, if there were any treasure, it would have been found by now." Considering that the area even had a bath house for bathers to change into swimming suits, I can see her point. "I'm hoping there's something more. I mean, for all we know, it might not even be within the waterfalls."

And by the vast expanse of the park itself, that comment blows any winds that I have left, out of my sails. "That's comforting."

"Aha!" She exclaims and pulls me to her side while pointing at the map. "It's the upper waterfall."

I glance at the paper and see nothing that signifies either a waterfall or the number three. "Where?"

Mac pulls me closer. "Look at the holes. You'll see a squiggle on the left and a squiggle on the right but, in the center there's a dark line." From her pocket, she produces the Bouma brochure and turns it to the middle where there's a page of all three falls.

"The upper falls." I say, stunned at how an insignificant line on a piece of parchment could decode so much. "Let's go." Although the information is small, it refuels my need for excitement and I drag Mac up the trail.

For a while, the trail is open and Fiji's sun beats down on us until we stumble upon an old bench where we sat to rest and take in the gorgeous view of the Taveuni forest and the ocean in the distance. At some point, we went back into the jungle, grateful for the canopy above which shielded us from the tropical sun. It was then that we heard running water and came up to a stream with a rope that was tied from one tree to another – a means of traversing the slippery rocks without peril.

After passing the stream without incident, we continued into the jungle until the rumbling sound of water drew our attention to the waterfall that was fast approaching. Soon we could feel the falls' cooling mist on our hot skin. "We need a break." I say and am surprised when Mac agrees and takes the turn to descend towards the pool below where a small group of people had gathered to enjoy the cool water.

We kick off our boots, slip of our socks and stow the small backpacks we were carrying above a big rock. "You think the water is safe to drink?" She asks while wadding, thigh deep, into the pool.

"We have water, Mac, why chance it?" Although they say that running water is safe to consume, I'd rather not bite the bullet unless necessary. As expected, we were not alone for long and while I figured we'd bump into a few tourists and, maybe, some locals, I didn't quite expect to see the same men from last night taking a dip in the water.

I hadn't noticed them before and probably wouldn't until the man sitting by the waters edge turned and stared at me. I try to remain calm and smile, hoping that our worry was based on nothing more than a stupid paranoia. "Hey babe, let's get going."

She wades out of the pool and comes towards me and the rock that I'm perched on. "You wanted to take a dip and now you're in a hurry?"

Pulling her close, I kiss Mac hard and deep, hoping to throw off anyone who may be on our treasure seeking scent. "The guys from last night are here." I feel her tense even as her arms wrap around me. "We need to get out of here, fast."

"Not too fast." She suggests and kisses me back with fervor. "Let's give it a couple of minutes." Her heart is hammering a million miles an hour and despite my want to continue immediately, she has a good point. "I can't believe you forgot our bathing suits in the bus!" She exclaims loudly as she takes a seat next to me and begins tugging her socks back on.

"Sorry honey." I try playing the doting husband and hope that the trio buys in.

Minutes later, we hurry up the trail which, to our dismay, narrows considerably. To make matters worse, thunder in the distance alerts us to the rainfall which is a daily occurrence in Taveuni, especially in these parts.

"Stop! We just want to talk." Behind us, I hear male voices and the distinct sound of a gunshot and the bullets ricocheting off of trees.

"Shit! Grabbing Mac roughly, I pull her off the trail, through the ferns and into the dense jungle. "Run!" I tell her as we quicken our pace and greenery passes by in a flash. Bullets whiz by us as the two of us charge into the unknown. In the distance, we hear the rumble of falling water and, not more than a minute later, Mac and I are standing at the top of the middle waterfall.

"They're coming!" Mac yells, turning back to see the men no more than thirty yards away. "What do we do?"

I swallow down the bile that has risen in my throat and stare down to the pool where the flowing water spills into. I make my decision although I know nothing of depth or rocks beneath the water. "Jump."

She looks down and then behind us. "I can't." The thought of hurling her body into oblivion freezes Mac in place.

"Damnit, Mac! JUMP!" I yell as, seconds later, another bullet slices through the air and into Mac.

To Be Continued…


	14. Tropical Trouble pt 6

**This is the final part of "Tropical Trouble" I really didn't think it would take 6 chapters to get through but I got caught up. I hope you like this ending for it. I was torn between this or something else but, this was just amusing. **

**Enjoy!**

**Jackie**

**Tropical Trouble 6**

"I know you wanted to take a dip but, that was ridiculous." I say, cringing as Harm uses a piece that he tore off from his shirt to bind the wound on my right arm. A second after the bullet sliced through my arm, I was also hit by Harm's body slamming into me and taking us over the falls. I barely registered what had happened until the rush of cool water hit my skin causing the wound to ache more than it had when it happened.

I bobbled to the surface, spewing up water and trying to catch my bearings. I swam to the edge of the pool and looked up but could not spot any of the three men that had attacked us. That was when Harm grabbed my hand and pulled me fully out of the water and into the jungle. We ran for a good ten minutes before he stopped and tended to my wound.

"_This_ is not what I had in mind." He checks the bandage and is satisfied that it will hold. "You're damned lucky the bullet didn't get stuck in there."

"Tell me about it." The last thing I need is _another_ bullet stuck in my body. One in my thigh was more than enough for a lifetime. "What now?"

Harm looks down at me and furls his brow as if he were trying to read my mind. "I think we should get back down to the information center and call the cops."

That would be the most logical thing, I know but, "What about the treasure?"

"Treasure? Are you nuts?! _We _almost got killed. _You_ were shot. And we _still_ don't even _know_ if the damned thing exists!" Exasperated, he throws his arms up in the air and then places them on his hips. "We _can't_ keep traipsing through this jungle."

"I'm fine." I begin, looking at my arm and the makeshift bandage. "What if it's more than _just_ treasure?"

Harm stares at me as if I'd just dropped out of a spaceship. "I'm supposed to be the loose cannon and you're supposed to be the level headed one. . .When did that change?"

He's so cute when he's worried. "I'm _still_ level headed." Looking at my watch, I calculate that we have a good seven hours before the park closes. It's more than enough time to try and make it to the third waterfall, providing any further complications. "I say we head down to the first waterfall and wait for the tour. If we join them, those guys will not be able to do anything stupid." The group is very large, there's a good chance that the threesome might miss us entirely.

"I think we should just go home. We could always finish our honeymoon in Vermont. How about Niagara Falls? It's the honeymoon capital of the world." He says, sounding as if he'd been reading one brochure too many. By the look on his face, Harm seems to know my answer. "Mac, you've been shot."

I look at my arm again and then shrug. "It's a flesh wound." It's completely asinine to continue this endeavor, but I have a feeling that I can't shake. It's probably the same rush that professional treasure seekers get so addicted to. The look of concern forces my level headed senses to fall back into place - that and the burning sensation radiating from my arm. "Fine. . .Let's head back down and get the hell out of Dodge." I concede and slip a hand into his.

We walk hand and hand through the jungle, following the sound of rushing water that leads us close to the second waterfall. As we near the edge, through the vegetation we spot the three men and quickly find a place to hide. "What are they doing?" Harm asks, unable to see too well from his spot.

Lying in the prone position is not very comfortable when your body is strewn over mud, bugs and twigs. From my position, I'm able to see through a large fern and spot two of the men frequently diving into the water. "Two of them are diving into the water. The third is giving orders . .I don't think they know we've made it."

The third man is standing on the edge of the pool yelling orders to the other two. Obviously the leader, he waves a pistol in the air which he promptly puts away once a tour begins to approach the area. "They're leaving." I say, watching as the two men come out of the water and walk off, following the leader towards the path that leads to the lower falls. "They're starting down the path to the lower falls." I turn to Harm with a smile. "We can give it another shot."

"Maaaac." He whines but, I cut him off.

"It's only about an hour hike. . .If we don't find anything after searching for a half hour or so, we can just come back down." I really don't know what makes him concede or why he did so without any other argument but, we wound up resuming our hike to the upper falls.

The trek was far worse than I had anticipated. As fit as both Harm and I are, its not every day that we need to hike up hill, through slick rocks, mud and the two, rope-assisted, stream crossings. I begin to feel my body begging me to stop when the rumble of water catches my ears. "Are you alright, Mac?" I hear Harm whisper as he pulls me to a stop.

"Ask me again and I'm gonna strangle you with my boot lace." I threaten, grateful for his concern but annoyed by the insistence. "Let's just get up this thing so we can take a break."

To be fair, I'm not doing so well. Because we've been pelted by a light rain, no one could really see how much blood had been seeping from the wound. The water would wash it away before Harm noticed. While I know that the bullet didn't nick any important artery, I have a feeling that a fragment is still inside, preventing the wound from closing. "Sorry, babe but, you're _really_ pale."

"So are you." And he really is! "This ain't no walk in the park." I take a long pull of what's left of my drinking water and then push past him.

The upper falls are just as gorgeous as the two below although they are not as tall. Water rushing down is 'cut' by the rock face and the pieces that jut out in odd angles. It causes three smaller falls rather than one big one like the previous two. I pull out the map and had it to Harm. "We're lucky I didn't lose either of these." I say, tugging the cross from my back pocket. Placing it over a specific area of the map, I get the same clue that brought us to the Upper falls – the squiggly lines that appear to be a waterfall cut into three.

Harm turns his head slightly, trying to take a better look. "So those squiggly lines are supposed to be this water fall. . . okay, what now?" He squints at the map and turns his head another way.

"I don't know." I admit on a sigh. Honestly, it's not like this thing has step-by-step instructions or anything. "I think I sent us on a wild goose chase for nothing." Although the falls are stunning, I would have preferred not to get shot in order to see them. "Harm? What are you doing?" He hands me his pack and starts wading into the water. "Those goons could still be hanging around and you're going swimming?" I ask a second before he disappears beneath the water. "Harm!"

The ripples of water makes it impossible for me to spot him and my worry turns away from the goons and towards the waterfall and what its force could do to someone. I hold my breath and am a second away from diving into the water when Harm comes out from beneath the falls. "Mac! Come on!!" I hear him yell while motioning for me to join. "Bring the pack!"

I do as he instructs, wincing as the water brushes up against the wound on my arm. "You need to take a deep breath and stay on my six." Harm instructs and before I have a chance to ask, he's taking a deep breath. I follow suit and hold on tightly to his pack and my own as we dive beneath the water. Its coolness is a blessing on my hot skin even if the waterfall itself is pelting my already aching head. We descend beneath the falls and I follow as Harm disappears into a cave. My lungs burn, ache and plead for me to take a breath. While I don't have problems swimming, holding my breath for long periods of time is a bit of a workout for me. I think it's more of a mental thing than a physical one.

Although we are swimming through a cave, there's a brightness from above that shines through in rays that move as we cut through the water. I'm tempted to turn back as the aching in my lungs magnifies in intensity and the need for oxygen adds to my anxiety. And then, just when I think it's all too much, Harm grabs my hand and pulls me upwards. We break the surface together and each take a deep breath.

I brush the water from my eyes and breathe deeply only to find my breath caught in my throat. "Holy shit." We're surrounded by smooth rocks, obviously cut by man as nature couldn't have been so intricate. From a small crevice above, the sun's rays shine inside and reflect off of a brass mirror that's been situated on top of a wooden barrel that is so rotted out, it's a miracle it's still standing.

Harm is standing on the relatively dry ground, adjusting the mirror so that it shines towards another cave filled to the gills with old chests one of which is opened and sharing its secrets. I make my way out of the water and just stare. "It's like a movie." He says before grabbing me in a bear hug that makes me lose what's left of my breath. "Babe, you were right! Look at all of this." He steps forward, dipping his hands into the open chest full of doubloons, jewels and pearls.

"Oh my God." We've just stumbled onto a mother lode and it's now so evident why we were shot at. I take a doubloon in my hand and search for an inscription to find that it is, indeed, Spanish gold. "We need to contact someone, Harm." To begin with, it is going to be impossible to remove the treasure ourselves. And second, I'd much rather this be given to a museum where such a find will be taken care off properly. "I'll about finder's keepers but, God knows how many more people have died over this."

My words seem to cut his excitement and Harm realizes that our find is just as good as blood money. "We need to let someone know."

"Who, though? I'm not sure who we can trust that won't want all of this for themselves." I take three or four doubloons and shove them into my pack. "We need evidence, in case someone things this is nothing more than wild goose chase."

"That was great!" I hear a yell that echoes throughout the cave and a moment later, bright lights blind us as a movie camera moves in out of nowhere. "That was great! Absolutely superb. You two are going to be stars!"

Harm and I stare at several person, men and women; some dressed in scuba gear, others in jeans and t-shirts. For some reason, this all looks like some elaborate movie set. "What? What's going on here?"

"I'm Mark Santori, the director." A man smoking a cigar and wearing a fedora steps out from behind the camera, extending his hand to Harm and then to me. "You two are on Treasure Seekers, the new reality show airing this Fall on ZBS."

"Treasure Seekers?" Harm's voice drops a notch to an undertone that only comes out when he's incredibly pissed off.

"Reality show?" I look around at the cave and wonder now if it was all constructed or if it was there for the taking. "All of this?"

"Is natural." Mark confirms. "Fiji is such a wonderful place for movies and tv shows that we decided to create an adventure here. "It's something like candid camera. We lead the contestants through several clues until they find the treasure."

God help me, I am going to kill him. "So this is all bullshit?"

Mark seems affronted by my comment. "Well, not bullshit."

Harm steps forward and grabs Mark by the lapels of his shirt. "My wife was shot. . ._for real. _We could have been killed. What kind of sick asshole lets that happen?"

"Ah, well. . .you see." He tries to shove Harm back but it's no use as he's nearly a head shorter and thin as a rail. "Umm.. Jenny, can you explain?"

Jenny, a blond, dressed in Goth gear and a patented look of annoyance, steps up next to her boss. "It's got nothing to do with us, we called the cops and they were taken into custody."

Mark nods in agreement. "We were going to stop the shoot and give you aid but, you two disappeared into the jungle. We didn't spot you again until to set back up the trail."

I press my hand to the wound, finding it hot and painful. "And yet you kept shooting?"

"You seemed fine. We thought it was a flesh wound." He snaps his fingers and points to two paramedics waiting in the wings. "Gentlemen if you please." The pair hurries to our sides, one tending to Harm and the other to my wound.

The medic doesn't seem too pleased by the wound and uses a pen light to check my eyes. "She needs a hospital and fast. Is there anyway we can get a chopper in here?"

Mark shakes his head. "Yes, they can drop a basket and haul her up - its how we brought our equipment in."

"This is going to put you to sleep." The medic says before plunging a needle into my arm. I'm not sure of its exhaustion or the loss of blood but it doesn't take too long for me to drift into a peaceful oblivion. One of the last things I hear before falling asleep is Mark telling Harm something about signing a waiver and 10,000 dollars would be awarded to each of us. Seconds later, Harm's fist connected with the side of Mark's face. God, I love my husband.


End file.
